


Freckled Love (a JeanMarco AU)

by keithbaekogane



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Use, Everyone Is Gay, Implied Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir - Freeform, Implied Levi/Eren Yeager, Implied Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Punk Jean Kirstein, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 58,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithbaekogane/pseuds/keithbaekogane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschstein, a sophomore in college, has a lot on his plate. After fighting one too many times with his parents, he decides to get a dorm on campus... only to be roomed with dorky sophomore, Marco Bodt. It's surprisingly easy for Jean to get along with his roommate, but after an embarrassing incident occurs between the two of them, Jean can't help but wonder if he likes Marco as more than just a friend. <br/>Can Jean sort out his feelings for Marco, even as Marco begins to date someone else?</p><p>* * * <br/>This is an AU Attack on Titan fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Jean forcefully shoved his bedroom door behind him, causing it to slam and resound throughout the rest of his house. 

"Jean, please-" His mother's voice sounded from the other side, but Jean was too angry to stop and listen. 

"Shut up!" He bellowed, clenching his fists so tightly, his knuckles began to turn white. His face felt hot with anger, and his shoulders shook.

"I'm only worried about your future," his mother persisted. "You're a wonderful photographer, Jean, but will your photos be enough to pay your bills?"

Jean began to grab things from his room, shoving them into a backpack. He couldn't take another fight with his parents. Especially one about his future. In a way he knew his parents were right when they suggested he change his major, but he didn't know what else he could do. He was hopeless at getting along with people, and hated being confined to a tiny office. Taking photos was the only thing he enjoyed doing. It was the only thing he was good at. 

Slinging his backpack over his back, Jean opened the door again, and stormed past his mother. She was a short, plump woman, and didn't look much like Jean at all. He took after his father in many ways. 

"Where are you going?" His mother asked, following behind him. 

"I don't know. To the University, I guess," he snapped, gliding swiftly down the stairs, the front door now in his sight. Despite his response, he knew  _exactly_  where he was going. He didn't want to stay in this house any longer; he would go straight to his university and fill out paperwork to get dorm. Sure, it would be spendy, but he'd get a job, too. 

"Do you need any money, dear?"

"I'm  _fine_!"

Jean pushed his key into the ignition, taking a few tries to start the engine. His truck is rather old, but it always does its job of taking him where he needs to go. 

He backs his truck out of the driveway and takes one last look at his childhood home before driving off. 

It seemed that he fought with his parents at least every week. And it was always something  _they_ said to push one of Jean's sensitive buttons. They disapproved of his college, his clothes, the piercings in his ears, and even the way he dyed the top half of his hair. Of course, his parents didn't mean to make Jean so angry; they just did their best to look out for their only son. 

Jean was only five minutes from campus when he decided to stop to get a drink somewhere. He needed to calm down before he talked to anyone about getting a dorm room on campus. 

The small café before him looked very popular, though he figured it got even busier during lunch hours, and not in the morning when people were usually at work. Jean would usually have classes this early on a Thursday, but his morning class got cancelled. Apparently his professor had a "family emergency".

Dry, colorful leaves crunched under Jean's boots as he stepped up onto the sidewalk, and towards the café door. It was getting chillier everyday, with Autumn just around the corner. 

As Jean pushed the door open, it was like walking from winter directly to summer. The café was warm and toasty, and smells of coffee beans and spices wafted past him. The café had two sections- one with a counter and some booths, and another further back with tables. The table area seemed more private, like a place for dinner or dates. But, since Jean only wanted some coffee, the counter seats were the most appealing. He took a seat on one of the red stools, and heard a voice almost immediately say, "I'll be with you in a moment!"

"Fine," Jean answered softly, nodding. He continued to look around the place, a bit surprised he'd never been there before. The lighting inside was bright and warm, and most of the colors were different shades of brown. Behind the counters were large black chalkboards, with various drinks and foods written in neat handwriting, along with the occasional doodle on the sides. 

Jean's concentration is broken suddenly as a menu was placed in front of him.

"Ah, sorry about the wait. Would you like anything to drink?" 

Jean paused for a moment, eyeing the menu. "Yeah. I'll just have a coffee, please."

"Sure!" Jean heard some scribbling, as the guy before him wrote his order down. "Hey, are you alright, sir?"

Jean finally looked up. Standing behind the counter was a boy about his age, with dark hair parted neatly, and tan skin marked with even darker freckles. The freckles danced over his cheeks, and met at the bridge of his nose. The guy's eyes met Jean's, a kind smile on his face. 

Jean stumbled over his words for a moment, though he wasn't sure why. "Y-yeah. I'm fine."

The guy-- _I'll call him Freckles_ , Jean decided--smiled even wider. "Okay," he said. "One coffee. Will that be all?"

"Yeah, thank you." Jean lightly pushed the menu away from him, and Freckles took it back. Jean watched as he grabbed a white mug from one of the counters, and pouring dark coffee into it. Freckles' hands worked quickly, with ease, and he had a certain attribute of gracefulness to him as he went along.

Jean frowned suddenly, and looked down at the counter again.  _Why, of all times, do I choose now to stare at a random guy in a café? Especially when there are other workers here in little skirts and aprons!_

Suddenly, Freckles returned to Jean, and set his order before him. Except, along with his coffee, there was also a blueberry muffin on a napkin. Freckles smiled widely, and turned back around.

"Hey, Freckles," Jean called out to him. "I didn't order this muffin."

 _Oh, my God._ Jean stiffens, watching as the guy turns around.  _I just called him "Freckles" out loud..._  He knew he had a very small amount of self control after a fight with his parents, but he'd just hit an all time low. 

Freckles' cheeks were pink when he turned back around, the wide smile still on his face, even when he was embarrassed. "I know. It's on the house."

Jean quickly looked down, away from Freckles and down to the muffin. "Thanks," he said softly. He couldn't help but think how nice it was of Freckles to notice he was upset, and attempt to make him feel better. Even after Jean insisted he was okay.

Jean finished his coffee, and ate the entire muffin, realizing he'd been hungrier than he thought he was. Now that he was calm, his emotions--other than anger--had returned to him. He tried calling his friend, Ashton, but there was no answer. He often went to Ashton to talk to about his problems, and Ashton did the same to Jean. But, with both of them in different colleges--even though it was less than an hour away--it was difficult to keep in contact sometimes.

He took out money from his wallet, which was embarrassingly thin, and went to the cash register to pay. Freckles met him there, the smile  _still_  across his face. 

"I don't know how much the muffin was, so here," Jean said, handing over five 1 dollar bills. 

Freckles opened the cash register with a  _chiiing_ , and put in three of the bills. Then he gave Jean his change; fifty cents, and the remaining two bills. "Like I said, don't worry about the muffin!" He said cheerfully. 

It felt weird to be taking charity from this guy, but Jean knew it was useless to argue. He shoved the change into his jean pockets, and mumbled a, "Thank you. That's... nice of you."

Freckles' freckled cheeks were still pink, probably just from smiling so much, and it caused the corners of Jean's lips to involuntarily tug upwards. 

"Have a good day!"

"Yeah, you too." Jean turned on his heel, and headed back for his truck. The cold, crisp breeze hit him like a wall as he pushed the café door open, so he zipped his jacket up to his neck.

 _Get a grip, Jean_ , he told himself, cursing lightly under his breath.  _A cup of coffee and a free muffin and now you're_ too  _calm._

Now that he was away from the public's eye, his calm demeanor seemed to melt away, and his cheeks blazed red against the cool air as he unlocked his truck. Freckles in there probably gave out a muffin to every sad-looking sap that passed through those doors. In fact, he was sure to pick up a lot of chicks trying out that trick.

After driving for another five minutes, Jean parked at the University, and headed for the main office. There was a woman there that was assigned to deal with dorms and boarding. He had met with her in the past, and debated on getting a dorm once upon a time. He knew, because of that, that his application process wouldn't take very long. 

And so, after a fairly short amount of time, Jean had applied for a dorm and added the expenses to his student loans. 

Ruby Darwin, an eccentric, frizzy woman of age thirty-something, smiled at Jean. "Perfect. Looks like we're all done here, Jean. You're actually in luck; there's a dorm with another sophomore, and he's been looking for a roommate."

"Sounds great," Jean answered. "Do I have to fill out an application, or go to an interview, or what?"

"No, those won't be necessary. The boy wrote down some preferences, and the preferences you wrote matches him fairly well." Ruby smiled lightly. "You can move in anytime, and you have two weeks to decide if you'll stay or look for another roomie," she explained. 

Jean nodded, frowning lightly. "Anytime?"

"Sure. Just let me know the day, and I'll tell..." Ruby shifted through some papers, looking for something specific. "Marco. Marco Bodt."

 _Weird name_ , Jean thought.  _Who am I kidding? His name is pretty normal compared to mine..._

"Okay. What about this weekend?"

"This weekend...?" Ruby seemed surprise by how sudden he wanted to move in, but she did say  _anytime_. "Okay. This weekend should be fine. I'll contact Marco."

Ruby later gave him the remaining information, such as the room number and building, and the dorm room key, after she'd confirmed everything with Marco.

Jean somehow managed to nicely tell his parents that he'd finally gotten a dorm room, and he promised to visit them on long weekends and holidays (though he knew it was sort of a lie). He didn't have much in his room, and there was even less he wanted to take with him. He mostly only needed his clothes and college textbooks. And, of course, his camera. 

 _This is it. I'm going to live on campus, away from my parents, and be more involved in campus activities. I can attend parties without my location being questioned, and make new friends, and... Maybe even girlfriends?_ Jean smiled at the thought, knowing his life was just now starting. Everything before today was just the prologue. 

* * * 

Marco's fingers twitches nervously as the clock's hands ticked closer and closer to four-thirty. His new roommate was to arrive today, after his final class, which ended around four. Four-thirty was the agreed meeting time. 

When he talked on the phone with the boy--his name was Jean--he almost sounded...familiar. But, nevertheless, it was no one Marco could recall disliking or not getting along with. 

He looked around the room one last time, making sure it was set up to his satisfaction. His half of the room was neat and tidy, perhaps for the first time since he moved in. He liked to keep his room from getting messy, but it's never exactly been pristine, either. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Marco sprang up from where he sat, putting a smile onto his face. The expression felt natural to him, and was almost always involuntary. 

 _Okay_ , he thought,  _this is it. I have to make a good impression._

He knew having a roommate for once would be great. Sure, it was nice to have your own space, but it got lonely for Marco after a while. He was a people person; or, at least, a couple-of-people person. 

Marco's fingers touched the cool metal of the door handle, and pushed it down to open it. 

When the door was fully open, Marco laid his eyes onto his new roommate. And... He recognized him. He was tall and slim, standing with his hands in his coat pockets. He appeared to Marco as a character you would see on a television show; a rebel with an 80s Rock band shirt, the upper half of his hair dyed a lighter color, and the bottom dark, and even ear piercings in his cartilage. He half expected this 'rebel' to have a bandage on his cheek, or a bruised eye from a meaningless fight he'd gotten in. But Jean seemed surprisingly unbruised and uninjured. 

As Marco stared at Jean, Jean seemed to have the same sort of epiphany. 

"You're-" Jean spoke, but then stopped, pointing a long, slender finger at Marco. 

"The guy from the café," Marco finished for him, breathless for no apparent reason. 

 _Well,_ Marco thought.  _This will be interesting._

 


	2. Chapter Two

"So, do you want to come in?" Marco asked him. 

Jean bit his lower lip, holding back a snarky reply.  _Of course I'd like to come in, it's my dorm now, too._

"Yeah, thanks. I have some boxes in my truck, but I can get them later," Jean responded, stepping into the dorm. 

Marco immediately spoke up. "Oh! I'll help!"

Jean couldn't help but chuckle at his immediate desire to assist him. "That'd be great. So, you're a sophomore, too?"

"That's right. What's your major?"

"Photography." Jean began to look around the dorm. It was small, like he expected, with cerulean blue walls and clean white curtains. On Marco's half, there were pictures taped to the walls, and several books on his desk; a very small portion of them looked like they were college textbooks. Jean wanted to say his half of the dorm would look just as cool and personalized as Marco's, but... It would be a lie. "What's yours?"

"Interior design..." Marco's cheeks grew pink, and he looked around the dorm. "It may not look like it, but I think I'm pretty good at decorating homes."

Jean raised an eyebrow, looking around the dorm one last time. "You're kidding, right? This dorm looks ten times better than any others I've seen."

"Ah, thanks..." Marco replied, looking embarrassed. "You remember what the café looked like, don't you?"

"Yeah. Did you decorate it?"

"Mhm," Marco nodded. "But enough about me. Should we go and get your things?"

"Oh, sure. Thanks."

It didn't take very long to move Jean's boxes into the room, but it was really tiring. Not only was there a short walk from the parking lot to the actual building, but their dorm was also on the third floor.

"Sorry," Marco laughed slightly after regaining his breath, sitting on his bed. "I'm sure there's an easier way to pack things all of the way up here."

"It's no problem," Jean replied, looking at the unpacked boxes. He decided he'd only make his bed tonight, and unpack tomorrow since it was the weekend. "It's not like I'll be carrying heavy things with me all of the time."

"True." Marco was smiling widely, and it made Jean wonder if he ever  _stopped_  smiling. He also wasn't sure if he liked Marco's happy-go-lucky attitude, or if it would grow to be annoying. Currently, whenever Marco smiled, it made Jean want to smile, too. But who knows how irritating it could get after a while? 

"You hungry?" Marco asked. 

Jean recalled the terribly-made PB&J he made himself this morning before leaving, just in case he didn't have a chance to get dinner today. "Not really," he said. 

"Okay. I think I'll head over to the cafeteria." He smiled then as he stood up. "I love that this dorm building is so close to it. Don't you?"

Jean returned his smile, deciding to take Marco's word on how close it was. "Yeah. I'll see you later, Marco."

"See you!"

And so Marco left, leaving Jean alone. That kid must have a lot of trust in him, to leave someone he just met alone with all of his possessions.

It didn't matter much to Jean, though. After resting a few more moments, he began to unpack his bedding. Soon he got his flannel sheets down, and his grey duvet over them. His bed looked so dull. It never bothered him before now, but he was suddenly realizing that he no longer wanted to have a dull life. Because, of course, having dull bedding means you have a dull life.

This was college. This was when people supposedly found themselves, and truly became independent. Although it was already Jean's second year of college, it was like he was only now having this revelation.

Jean decided to go further into unpacking, and began to fold his clothes neatly, putting them in one of the two closet-like dressers at the end of his bed. The two closets were terribly planned; if, for example, Jean had the closet door open and Marco opened the main door to come in, the two doors would hit. It'd be even worse if  _both_  of the closet doors were open. 

Finally, after unpacking for nearly half an hour, Jean returned to his bed, leaning his back against the headboard and getting out his laptop. He didn't like to get expensive things, but his camera and laptop are two things we was happy he splurged on. His junior and senior years in high school, he got jobs over the summer and used the money to buy them. The new camera was the most important thing he bought, though, and a definite improvement from the school camera he always used for photography class. 

Jean also knew he couldn't live without his phone. His parents first bought it for him as a graduation gift, and continue to pay his phone bill. He now wondered if that would change since he moved out. 

He headed straight for Google Docs, and began to finish up an essay for his English class. He hated English. He hated math. He hated science. 

In all technicality, he actually rather liked the subjects, but not that he had to take them. He had to take those classes his entire life; you take them when you're in elementary school, middle school, high school, and now college? What was he going to need science and English for when his major was Photography? It was dumb and pointless. 

Jean lost track of the time when trying to write, and before he knew it, the dorm door opened. Marco was back, a black jacket tucked under his arm, which he probably took off once he entered the building. 

He smiled and shut the door behind him, his freckles being pushed up along with his cheeks. "I'm back. Are you feeling at home yet?"

Jean could tell his question was more or less a joke, but Marco asked it kindly anyway. 

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he answered. 

Marco hung his jacket in his closet, and then sat on his bed. "Hey, Jean, is it okay if we exchange numbers? You know, in case we need to get ahold of each other."

Jean looked away from his computer screen to Marco.  _He want_ _s_ _my number..?_

Then he shrugged, and pulled out his phone, bringing up his contacts.  _Oh, what the hell. It's probably for the best._

Jean's contact list was pretty pitiful, so he made sure to only hand it to Marco when the Add New Contact screen was up. Most of the people on his list consisted of "friends" from high school, and girls he either planned to call someday or was saving for a rainy day. But a huge portion of the people in the list were people he'd probably never speak to again. 

Marco handed Jean his phone in return, and Jean quickly entered his number, leaving the name blank in case Marco wanted to use his creative imagination and put Jean's name in as Roomie, or Jerk Whom I Share a Room With. You never know. 

Jean got his phone back with the new number in it, realizing Marco left his name blank, too. Which was weird. Jean hadn't met anyone else who did that like him. 

He decided to use "Freckles", and saved the contact.

Marco smiled again, his phone in hand, and sat back onto his bed. He leaned against the wall, his feet hanging off and nearly to the floor. He had on brown boots under his well-fitted jeans, but started to kick them off. "Hey, so what's your deal, anyway?"

Jean closed his laptop slowly, tilting his head. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Marco laughed. "I didn't mean it in a rude way. I'm just wondering why you decided to get a dorm so quickly. Especially when you didn't have one last year."

"Oh." Jean's eyes returned to his lap. "Well, I live less than thirty minutes away from campus, so it was really no big deal to just drive here everyday. But, recently I've been fighting with my parents more than usual, so..."

"Ah," Marco nodded. "I see. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"But hey, on the bright side, it means we're roommates now!" Marco said, attempting to raise Jean's spirits. And it somehow sort of worked. Jean smiled. Even if he didn't know Marco very well, having him as a roommate for a whole two hours so far had really been nice. Far nicer than another night at his old house would have been. 

* * *

A week passed, and soon it was Friday; Jean's last day of classes before the weekend. Luckily, he only had three classes. Two were required, and he couldn't care less about, but the other he actually enjoyed. It didn't have anything to do with his major, but he had a huge amount of time before his first class and his last, so he picked up a class for fun: Art History. 

It mainly consisted of looking at old paintings and sketches, many of which were from the Renaissance, and decipher the meanings behind them. There were so many hidden symbols in paintings Jean had seen so many times, but never knew there was anything else to them besides the main object. 

Jean walked into his Art History class that afternoon, right after having lunch. Because he only had a small meal the night before, he gladly took up Marco's offer in the morning to get breakfast before nine and ten o'clock classes (Marco's first class was at nine, and Jean's at ten). It was then, in the college dining hall, that Jean saw a whole different side to college life. As a freshman, he rarely ate in the university's dining hall. He usually just waited until he returned home to eat. But when Marco insisted Jean sit with him and his friends, Jean accepted, for some unknown reason. Marco had a good-sized friend group, but they didn't seem  _super_  close. They talked, went to parties together, hung out on weekends sometimes, but they obviously weren'tclose, or else Marco would have already had a roommate before Jean came along. 

Marco introduced them all to Jean quickly, but Jean had only registered half of their names. There was Eren, a guy with a girl's name (Connie?), and a very pretty Japanese girl named Mikasa, who apparently moved with her family to America, and then was taken in by Eren's family after her parents died. (That's what Marco told him, at least, when Jean asked about her later.) Mikasa's hair was cut to her shoulders, framing her thin, pale face wonderfully. Her stare was always cold, but Jean still thought she was lovely.

Anyway, despite the fact that he only knew a couple of their names, they were immediately fun to be around, and immediately comfortable with Jean in their group. It was really nice. 

Jean cleared his mind of what happened that morning, and searched for a good seat in the class. He saw Professor Ackerman at the head of the class, his cold stare landing on students as they entered. Ackerman was young and new to the university, and already hated for how mean he was. But, as harsh as he was, Jean loved the way he taught. Sure, he was as tall as a middle-schooler and looked like he'd been through a couple of traumatic events as a child, but he knew a lot about history. In fact, he taught multiple history classes there at the university, and Jean had two of those classes. 

"Jean?"

Jean looked up from where he sat, pulled away from his thoughts. Before him was a tall, tan boy with dark hair and freckles that Jean would recognize anywhere. 

"Marco? What're you doing here?" Jean asked. 

"I have this class." Marco laughed lightly. "I can't believe I've never seen you in here before."

Honestly, it wasn't that surprising to Jean. There were so many people at this college--and even this class alone--that Jean would graduate from there without ever meeting a huge portion of his graduating class. 

"Yeah," Jean agreed, "it's crazy."

"So, can I sit here? Or are you waiting for someone else to come along?" Marco motioned to the empty seat next to Jean. 

"Oh, go ahead. I don't mind."

Marco sat down, and got his things ready to take notes once class started. 

After a few seconds, Jean leaned towards Marco slightly, and in a hushed tone, said, "Have you heard of Professor Ackerman's student lover?"

Marco's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah. Someone apparently has seen a student leave his office once in a while, and most of the time they come out looking really flustered," Jean explained with a shrug. He also heard somewhere that the student was a  _boy_ , but he decided to keep that little tidbit to himself. No need to make the rumor any worse for the professor than it already was. 

Soon class started, and Jean and Marco were taking down notes as Professor Ackerman gave a lecture. It was hard to make lectures fun and interesting, and yet Professor Ackerman somehow did just that despite his monotone voice. Once in a while, however, you could sense excitement in his voice as he talked and talked about a piece of art or famous artist; you could tell that studying history was his passion.

"Hey," Marco suddenly whispered, leaning close to Jean so that he didn't attract attention from the others in the huge lecture hall. Jean stiffened slightly at how close he was, but listened anyway. "I'm going to a party Saturday night, just a few minutes away from campus. You wanna come with me?"

"Whose party is it?" Jean whispered back. 

"It's Connie's. You remember Connie, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"So...you'll go?" Marco prodded Jean. Literally prodded him. He poked Jean's arm, as if thinking that might further encourage him to say yes.

"Yeah, sure."

"Cool." Marco smiled, and that was it. After that, they both went back to listening to the lecture.

 


	3. Chapter Three

As the week went on, Jean grew to like Marco more and more. There was something about the dark-haired boy that made Jean like him the moment he met him, but their friendship only grew from there.

Marco and Jean had originally planned to go out in town, hang out, and maybe get some lunch or something. It was Friday, and their class with Professor Ackerman had been cancelled for unknown reasons. Jean joked that maybe it had something to do with a last minute appointment with his lover. Marco, on the other hand, just laughed. "I don't think that's it, Jean..." He'd said. 

Unfortunately, Marco's boss called in early that morning and asked him to work as soon as he could come in. On a  _Friday_. He usually got Fridays off. It really sucked. 

So, around lunchtime with nothing else to do, Jean decided to go out to the café where Marco worked, just so he could more or less keep their plan to get lunch. He hated when plans changed. If Jean said he was going to do something, then he was going to do it no matter what. 

He grabbed his coat and keys, but ultimately just decided to walk to the café. Before he left, he also decided to grab his camera bag. If he only brought his camera and no extra lenses, it really wouldn't take up very much room at all. And the weather was so beautiful around this time, he knew he'd see some great sights. 

He thought it was really cool that Marco was able to get a job at that café. Not only was it so close to the university, but he also said they let him design the entire interior. Not many places would let some college student do that, even if they did work for them. 

Just before Jean reached the café, he pulled his phone out from his Jean pocket, and pulled up his messages. He tapped on 'Freckles', and sent a quick message. 

_Hey. How's work?_

He watched as his phone notified him that the message sent, then that it was delivered, and soon after that it was read. Three dots popped up, showing that Marco was typing his reply. It was weird to think of that. Marco, at this moment, was typing his reply and his phone already notified him of it. Technology had gone too far. 

 _Ugh. Terrible. I get a break soon, though!_ Marco replied. 

 _What luck_ , Jean thought to himself. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and finally pushed the café door open. Marco wasn't anywhere to be seen, but it didn't matter. The smell of coffee surrounded Jean, and made him want something to drink. He walked directly to the counter, where a young woman was working. She looked to be about Jean's age, if not younger, with bright blue eyes and blonde, shoulder-length hair. Her name tag read  _Krista_. 

"Hi!" She said cheerfully. "May I help you?"

"Yeah. Is Marco here?"

Krista seemed surprised. "Yes, he is. I'll go and get him, if you'd like," she offered, pointing back to the kitchens. 

"That'd be great," Jean nodded. "Thanks."

Krista escaped back to the kitchens, leaving Jean leaning against the counter. There was no one behind him in line waiting for a table or to pay, so he didn't bother moving.

Finally Krista came back from the kitchens, and Marco was behind her. His face when he saw Jean was priceless. His entire face lit up, and he was both happy and shocked. 

"Wow, I-" Marco stopped for a moment, walked to the counter. "What are you doing here?"

Jean couldn't help but smile, still leaning against the counter. "Well, we planned to eat lunch, so I figured I'd just meet up with you here."

Marco's smile widened. "I don't think I can get my break right away, though... Can you wait five minutes?"

"Sure." For some reason, this now felt sort of different to Jean. Like he was picking up a date or something. Except Marco certainly wasn't his type, considering he went for beautiful girls, and Marco was just his  _male_ roommate. 

"Do you want something to drink while you wait? It's on me," Marco offered, resting his hands on the top of the counter. The sleeves of Marco's blue shirt bunched up slightly at his wrists, which Jean found weird since Marco was a pretty tall guy; taller than he was, even. 

"Thanks, but I can pay this time," Jean said. "I'll have a coffee."

"Just plain coffee?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

Jean, by glancing at the chalkboard menu behind Marco, saw all of the different types of drinks they had. It was starting to feel awkward now; Jean just talking to Marco when he's on the job. 

"I think I'll have to pass," Jean said with a smile. "Just regular coffee, please."

"Alright! I'll bring it over when it's done." Marco then turned on his heel, and faced the coffee area. Krista immediately was at Marco's side, a sly smile on her face. Although Jean took a seat at a nearby booth, he couldn't quite make out what they were discussing. But, whatever it was, it embarrassed Marco. Krista stopped talking, and Marco's cheeks were left a scarlet red as he shook his head. It was kind of cute. 

If you're into that sort of thing, that is. Which Jean knew he was not. 

When Marco came back to where Jean was sitting, and sat a hot cup of sweet-smelling coffee before him, his cheeks were still faintly colored. "Here ya go."

"Thanks," Jean answered, his fingers grasping the handle of the mug. He didn't pick up his coffee, or move it; he simply used it so his empty hands felt less awkward. 

"Okay, just a few more minutes, I promise. Then I'll take my break."

Jean shrugged, glancing outside the window. "Take your time." Then he turned back to the freckled boy. "Hey, Marco..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you like that girl or something?" He asked. "I don't mean to get into your personal life. She's just cute, that's all."

"What, Krista?" Marco laughed--it almost seemed like a forced, nervous laugh--and rubbed his forearm. "No, we're just friends. I'll see you in a bit, 'kay?"

Jean nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Marco left, stopping by tables to get orders or pick up dishes. Jean poured a bit of sugar into his coffee, just to make the bitter liquid a bit easier to drink. 

Soon Marco returned, his apron gone and his dark hair a bit ruffled from rushing. Jean smiled lightly as Marco sat across from him. "Ah, we're in luck... Boss said I can take a little longer break today than usual. As long as I don't stay out too long, of course."

"That's really kind of him. So," he started, "where did you want to get lunch, anyway?"

"Hm... I do know of a good place you probably haven't been to. My friends and I have eaten nearly everywhere near the University," Marco said, his usual cheerful smile on his face. "We like to find the hidden gems."

"So now I guess that means you'll have to show me all of the hidden gems."

"Yeah! That sounds like it'll be fun!"

Jean paid for his coffee, and they left the shop, Krista saying goodbye to them as they left the café.

"So," Jean said as they started to walk down the street, "where is this place, anyway? And what is it?"

"It's not far from here at all. And it's a good place to get Korean food. They have bentos, ramen, wraps..." 

"Sounds good to me."

Marco continued to lead the way, telling Jean about different places he's gone to eat. Jean took out his camera, taking pictures of beautiful things he saw, such as old, brick buildings and trees with shades of auburn, gold, and scarlet leaves rustling gently in the wind.

"So, who goes with you, anyway? Connie? Eren and Armin?" Jean asked, referring to Marco and his restaurants. "Oh. It's Sasha, isn't it? She's kind of a food enthusiast."

Marco laughed. "Well, I do it with all of them. Some days Connie is free, some times Armin is free... But yes, Sasha is usually free when it comes to food. Sometimes I get a couple of seniors from our dorm to come as well."

"Seniors? Who do you know that's a senior?"

"Reiner and Bertholdt. Surely you've seen them around before? Reiner's blond, pretty tall, really muscular... And Bert is pretty much always around him. He's taller than Reiner, dark hair... Also pretty strong, but a softie at heart."

As Marco painted a mental image for Jean in his head, he soon matched up the descriptions with two guys he'd seen in their dorm building before. 

"Oh, right," he said finally, nodding. "I think I've seen them around before." Jean was sort of surprised that Marco was friends with a couple of seniors...

Then again, Marco made friends with anyone. He was just so nice and friendly that he could get along with everyone, despite their interests or age differences. 

"So what sort of pictures do you like to take?" Marco asked suddenly, moving closer to Jean as they walked.

"Oh, well, of anything, I guess. Things I see and decide I like. Although, as my future career, I'll probably stick to family and senior portraits and all that."

"You can always keep a blog or something," Marco suggested with a smile. "You can post your others photos there. The ones you take because you want to."

Jean smiled lightly. "Yeah... I could. You know, I think I might do that."

"Ah, we're almost there. Just a block ahead," Marco said. Then, a moment later, he put his hand on Jean's shoulder lightly, pointing ahead of them. "Oh, look!" Just a ways away, Jean could see a large fountain. It's exactly what was expected in their city, and yet it was still surprising to see. "Let's go look."

The water created a cool mist near the large fountain, and Jean couldn't help but smile as Marco grinned over seeing it.

"It's so cool! I can't believe I've never been here before!" He exclaimed. 

Jean lifted his camera, ready to take a picture. But he hesitated, glancing at Marco once again. "Do you wanna take a picture?"

"Huh?" Marco stared at Jean, who was offering him his camera. "Really?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

Marco seemed amazed as he took the camera from Jean's hand, holding it as though it were an ancient, delicate artifact. "I-I don't really know how... Besides, what if I break it?"

"You aren't going to break it..." Jean rolled his eyes lightly. "Here, I'll show you."

He stood close to Marco, looking over his shoulder and directing him on the best way to hold the camera, stand to get the best lighting, and, of course, which buttons to push. 

"There. You're on the right setting. Now just take your time. Find the angle you like, and snap a picture," Jean said, finally giving Marco some space.

"Alright." He stared at the camera, concentrating hard. Jean just smiled, forcing himself to keep from laughing. He didn't blame Marco, though. Jean had been taking pictures for so long that it seemed natural which way to stand to get the best pictures. But Marco had an artistic touch, even if it lied in decorating homes. 

Finally Marco laughed, letting the camera down a little. "I took one. I think. I may have taken a couple."

"Here, I'll take one of you in front of it."

"Ah, I don't know..."

"Come on, please? I need to take more photos of people anyway. At the end of the year I need to turn in a portfolio."

"...Alright, fine." Marco eventually shrugged, and stood in front of the huge fountain. "Only if you take one with me afterwards."

"What? I'm not about to take a selfie with you like a fifteen year-old girl, Marco."

"Come on, please?"

Jean rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. You first."

Marco awkwardly smiled, unsure of what to do, and Jean snapped his picture. Then they asked a girl walking by to take their picture together. Jean grumbled and complained the entire time, but Marco ignored him.  _I guess it isn't so bad... He's having fun..._  Jean thought. 

Together they continued walking to the restaurant, looking at the pictures on the way. The ones Marco took were surprisingly decent. And the picture of them together wasn't so bad, either. Jean stared at Marco in the picture. He looked so happy, with the lighting just right, showing his nice features and tanned, freckled skin. He decided he may as well keep the photos.

* * * 

Marco stopped before the white door in front of him and Jean; music from the other side could be heard even from the front porch, and light chatter, too. Jean knew the noise would only increase once they were inside. It was Saturday night, and they had just arrived to Connie's party. His house was in the suburbs, and pretty large to be owned by a college-student. Jean assumed it was Connie's parents' home.

"Oh, Jean- how old are you?" Marco asked.

"Twenty. Why?"

Marco smiled. "Me, too."

"...Why?" Jean repeated.

"Oh," Marco laughed lightly, and Jean could notice his cheeks gain some color. He knocked on the door. "Well... We have some older friends, and they get beer for us. But if you don't want to drink, that's fine. I usually only have one or two."

The fact that Marco even drank alcohol was surprising to Jean. He didn't seem like the type of person to drink underage, or to break the law at all. But Jean also liked it. Some of his old friends were boring, and had sticks up their asses. He was lucky if he convinced them to drink at least once every one or two months.

"Sounds good to me," Jean answered.

Soon the door opened, and Jean and Marco were part of the crowd. The loud, obnoxious music hurt Jean's ears as soon as he stepped in, but he knew he'd get used to it. Jean nearly expected Marco to run off the moment they got inside, but he stayed by Jean's side. It was nice, really. He half expected that Marco would just leave him here alone with people he hardly knew. But who knows? Perhaps, after ten minutes, Marco would run off.

Just minutes later, Connie came into view, with his close-cropped hair and cheery face. He seemed almost too childish and innocent to be holding a party such as this one, but... He was known for his great gatherings. He was clearly closer to being wasted than being sober at this point. "Hey, Marco Polo, you made it! And you brought your horse, too!"

Jean raised an eyebrow, glancing at Marco. "Horse...?"

Marco just laughed nervously, raising his hand to the back of his neck. "He likes to come up with nicknames for people... Do you want something to drink? I'm gonna get us something to drink."

Marco went looking for the beers, and it's then that Jean saw more people he recognized. Eren was talking loudly to Armin, his face animated as he grinned. He got excited a little too easily over things... And he got angry too easily, as well. Mikasa was standing near them, staring at Eren. 

She really is beautiful... If only she wasn't so damn interested in Eren. You'd think she'd let herself at least think about other things. But she's really quite obsessed. 

Jean looked around some more. Sasha was near the food table, munching down some chips. It was amazing how much she ate with her small figure. Jean guessed she just had a very fast metabolism. He crossed his arms lightly, wishing Marco would hurry up with the drinks so he didn't have to stand alone with nothing in his hands. What was taking him so long, anyway?

He decided to go look for him, since he had nothing else to do. He made his way through the crowd, searching for a tall, dark haired figure. Then, finally he spotted him. He had his back turned to Jean, and was talking to a muscular guy. 

"Hey, Marco." Jean walked to him. Except, when he turned, it wasn't Marco at all. He looked very similar to Marco except for his hair was a bit longer, his nose a different shape, and no freckles splattered across his cheeks. Jean felt his cheeks heat up, and he took a step back. "Er..."

The guy just smiled. "Are you looking for Marco?"

"Um, yeah... I'm sorry, I thought-"

"It's alright... Not the first time it's happened, to be honest with you. I'm Bertholdt. What's your name?" He turned to face Jean, and Jean looked over him quickly. How did he think this was Marco at all? Sure, they were similar, but they were still built a little differently... Bertholdt was taller, and a little more muscular than Marco was. 

"I'm Jean."

Then the blond smiled. "I'm Reiner. I think I just saw Marco in the kitchen."

Of course. Reiner and Bertholdt. Marco was just telling Jean about them yesterday. Almost instantly he recognized them. "Oh, thank you. Sorry again."

"It's no problem at all. Nice meeting you, Jean," Bertholdt said.

Jean started to head for the kitchen. Or, where he assumed the kitchen to be. Except, he ran into another problem. Literally. 

Pain shot through his foot as he came into contact with someone, his foot being stepped on in the process. 

"Hey, watch it!" Jean snapped, stepping back. He glared lightly at the guy, staring into a tan face with cerulean eyes and dark brown hair. Eren. It was about the last person he wanted to run into...

 


	4. Chapter Four

Eren scowled. "Geez, sorry... You were the one who wasn't looking..."

Jean stiffened, but did his best to mostly keep his cool. He didn't want to mess with Eren at the moment. He'd never really liked the guy, ever since the first day they met. They immediately had opposing views, and had gotten into a small argument before Armin and Marco calmed them down.

"Whatever. Have you seen Marco?" He asked.

Eren adjusted his shirt collar, glancing around nonchalantly. "No. I haven't."

"Thanks anyway," Jean grumbled, watching as Eren continued on. Jean kept searching for the kitchen. It was less crowded than other parts of the house, but he didn't see Marco at all.

"Hey."

Jean stiffened as he heard that voice. It was beautiful, quiet, and smooth like honey. Sure enough, when he turned he saw Mikasa.

He smiled. "Hey. What's up?"

Her expression remained cold.

"I don't know what you said to Eren. But you should leave him alone."

_What the hell? Is she really that protective of him?_

"All I did was ask him where Marco was. Besides, he's the one who ran into me," Jean said, now frowning. 

"Eren's an idiot. He gets himself into fights and causes trouble. It's my job to protect him. So if anyone ever hurts him, I won't hesitate to kick their ass."

Then Jean smirked, his eyes landing on the floor. "So, what, is he your boyfriend or something?"

"I-It's not like that!"

"Oh? And here I thought you were dating your brother. I guess those hickies were from someone else, then."

He could see Mikasa react the moment he said it, and he almost regretted it. She suddenly jumped towards him, grabbing the collar of his jacket with incredible strength, pulling him to her level. She stared intensely into his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?" She seethed.

Jean grunted as he was pulled down, glancing around to see if anyone was around to see and help. Then again, he was a guy, and she was a girl... They'd probably say he deserved it. 

"I guess his shirt does a pretty good job to hide them... But not all of them," Jean said. "They look new, too. I'd say yesterday afternoon."

Mikasa suddenly shoved him away, and then turned on her heels, going after Eren. Jean almost felt sorry for the guy. A really hot girl had a crush on him, but, in actuality, she was a psychopath. Eren probably had a good girl he cared for who gave him those hickies. Or, maybe it was just a one night stand. Who knew?

"Jean?" Jean looked up from the counter he was leaning against (or, was forcefully pushed against) to see Marco, holding two beers. "I finally found you! I went back to where we were standing and you weren't there."

"Oh... Sorry about that. I went to find you."

Then Marco frowned. "Hey... Are you okay? You look a little frazzled..."

"I'm fine." Jean quickly stood up straight, and accepted one of the beers. "Except I think Eren is going to die."

"Hang on, what?"

Jean explained the whole situation to him, starting from Reiner and Bertholdt, and Marco seemed a little nervous. 

"Mikasa can... Well, she can be a bit much," Marco said afterwards. "She just wants to look after Eren. His mother died, you know, when they were very young. A terrible freak accident."

"Was it as bad as the accident that killed Mikasa's parents?"

"I'd have to say so."

"Man," Jean sighed. "It's a shame that some people have such terrible childhoods..." He opened his beer, and took a sip. "Hey, who do you think gave him the hickies, anyway? Mikasa seemed so surprised."

"I don't know," Marco admitted. Then he smiled, and put a hand on Jean's shoulder. "But hey, let's not worry about it. Now that you've met Reiner and Bertholdt, let's go talk to them, alright?"

"Alright!"

* * * 

Despite the embarrassing incident between Jean and Bertholdt that happened earlier, all four of them were able to laugh at it later. 

"You both look alike from behind!" Jean said in defense. 

Marco and Bert turned around, laughing, in order for Reiner to inspect. 

Like Jean thought, there were some differences. Bert was taller, and Marco was thinner. Marco was also a bit more tan. And, of course, freckled. 

"They don't look all that similar to me," Reiner grinned. "I can tell them apart easily."

"Well I can, too, when they stand so close... I just knew I saw a tall brunet, and I acted upon it!"

Marco still laughed, turning back around. He leaned his elbow onto Jean's shoulder and it worked, due to his height. "It's alright, Jean, we'll try to stop teasing you."

"Eh, no promises on our side," Reiner said with a smirk. 

Bert smiled nervously. "Ah, no, just on your side, Reiner. I can sort of see where there could be confusion..."

"See?" Jean said. "He gets it."

He hated having them laugh at him. He hated how they all towered over him as though he were a midget. But, at the same time, he liked that they were including them. He felt that they were his friends. 

"So why have we never met you before?" Reiner asked Jean after taking a long drink from his beer. "Is Marco just hiding you away and keeping you for himself?"

Marco blushed lightly, and laughed. "Ha... It isn't like that..."

Jean ignored it. "It's probably because I didn't live on campus last year."

"Huh. Do you like sharing a tiny, cramped room with someone who makes a mess and snores?" 

"Reiner..." Bertholdt mumbled, his cheeks turning pink. "Now you're just subtly insulting me..."

Reiner just laughed, and then pulled Bertholdt down to his level, ruffling his hair. "You know I'm just kidding around, roomie!"

They all continued to hang out, even playing a few rounds of foosball and usually missing terribly due to the amount of drinking. Jean, on the other hand (being the designated driver) did wonderfully. 

"You're good at this, Jean!" Marco said, smiling. 

Jean smiled back. "Thanks." Then he noticed that Marco was sober as well. "You know you can drink all you want, right? You don't have to drive home or anything."

"Yeah, I know..." He continued to smile. "I'll just have a couple more... That's all, though."

"Well how many have you had?"

"Just one."

"Oh." He smiled. "Light drinker, huh?"

Marco's cheeks turned pink, and he looked away. "Kinda, yeah... I don't mind, though."

Marco did end up having a lot more drinks than he planned, and he got pretty tipsy in the process. Then Jean realized that he probably didn't think this through. At first he thought that he'd only have to take Marco home, but halfway through their drinking, he'd volunteered to give Reiner and Bertholdt a ride as well. Bertholdt was being pretty responsible, but not enough to get them home. 

"Alright, guys, head out if you want a ride. I will leave you behind," Jean said, heading for the door. As soon as he stepped outside, he inhaled fresh air. It was a relief after smelling alcohol and sweat for so long. 

"I can be left behind," Marco smiled, stopping in his tracks. 

Jean rolled his eyes and grabbed Marco's arm, pulling him along. "Not you... Idiot."

It was like rounding up a bunch of toddlers and convincing them to follow you to your truck, without having them get distracted by every little thing on the way. In other words, it was nearly impossible. 

"Okay, Bert, keep your buddy system. Your buddy is Reiner. We only have a little ways to go to get to my truck..." Jean said.  _Why did I park so far away?_  He thought to himself. 

"Jean, does that mean you're my buddy?" Marco called from behind Reiner. He watched as Reiner and Bertholdt linked arms, giggling like girls about being buddies. "Jean, I'm not holding on to you!"

"Fine, fine, get up here, then."

Marco practically leapt passed the two seniors, and grabbed Jean's hand. His fingers intertwined with Jean's, and he smiled, his freckled cheeks flushed. "There. I'm safe now."

Jean felt himself blush as Marco held his hand.  _Geez... Drunk Marco is really weird. And really clingy._

Marco walked sluggishly, still gripping Jean's hand. Then he suddenly stopped, keeling over. 

"Marco?" Jean's eyes widened, and he thought his friend was going to collapse. He sort of did. Except he just leaned over the gutter and began to throw up all of the food and alcohol he'd consumed that day. 

Jean grimaced.  _Poor guy. He must be miserable. And I'm the one who convinced him to drink more._

"I'm going to wait for him, guys... Don't go too far." Jean put his hand on Marco's back, waiting for him to finish. Marco heaved until he couldn't throw up any more, and then wiped his mouth with the sleeves of his jacket. 

"Ew. Ah... Okay. You might wanna just take your jacket off... That's kinda gross..."

"I'm sorry, Jean..." Marco sniffed. 

"Jesus," Jean muttered, seeing tears well up in Marco's eyes. "Please don't be an emotional drunk. Are you done throwing up?"

Marco wiped his eyes -thankfully with with other sleeve- and nodded. 

"Alright, come on. Stop crying and let's catch up with the other two."

They eventually got to Jean's truck, and they all piled in, Reiner insisting he sit in the front. Jean's one condition was that nobody distracted him as he drove. They all were, of course, a distraction. But Jean was just glad they were at that point where they were all tired, and no longer felt like streaking or getting into a fight. That would be a little too much to deal with, he feared. 

They drove in silence. Reiner was talking, but Marco and Bertholdt were silent. And that sort of scared Jean. 

"Hey. You two alright in the back?" Jean asked, glancing in the rear view mirror at a read light. He could see the outline of their figures, but they looked all slouched over. "Please don't throw up and silently choke on your own vomit or something."

"I already puked, Jean," Marco said, sounding both proud and tired. "So I don't have to anymore."

"I'm very glad, Marco. Is Bert asleep?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Jean pulled into the University fifteen minutes later. He felt like he was a single parents coming home from a family gathering, with the children hyper from candy at first, but fast asleep by the end of the drive. 

He helped them get out of the truck without stumbling, and then managed to get them up a few flights of stairs. 

"Bye, Reiner, bye Bertholdt," Jean said when they got to their floor. 

"Later. Thanks, my man!" Reiner exclaimed, slapping Jean on the back. 

"Ow..."

"Thank you Jean! Come and visit us again sometime, please?" Bertholdt asked. Marco was right. He really was a softy at heart for being so tall and strong. 

"Okay, Bertholdt. Sure. Goodnight, you guys."

Marco mumbled his goodbyes, as he was exhausted by then, and Jean helped him get back to their dorm. 

Jean shut the door behind him, and Marco immediately went for his bed. 

"Ah, no... You need to change out of those clothes, Marco." Jean grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the bed. "You can do that, right?"

"Right."

They both changed into different clothes, with Marco only getting stuck in his shirt once, and then Jean allowed him to get into bed. 

"You're a handful, Marco, you know that? And you turn into a crying child when you're drunk."

But Marco was already dozing off, so Jean just shut off the lights and got into his own bed. 

* * * 

When Marco woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was shower. Jean was quick to follow, feeling dirty and gritty from the party. 

Then, after they were both more or less awake, Marco started his apologizing. 

"I usually don't let myself drink so much... What did I do, exactly?" He cringed against the sunlight from the window, and Jean could just imagine the headache he must have.

"You were fine at first... Sort of clingy, but that's alright," Jean shrugged. 

"Then what?"

"Then you puked into a gutter."

"Oh, God..."

"Hey, cheer up. At least it wasn't in my truck, right?" 

"What did I do after that?" Marco asked. 

"Well, then you started to cry. But that's all. You were really good after that." Then Jean stood, finishing his coffee. "I'm going out for a little... Just to step outside. Be right back."

"Alright."

Jean headed downstairs and took out his cigarettes as soon as he got outside. He wasn't really a smoker. More of a once every couple months smoker just to calm him down. He was actually very surprised he never got to the point where he needed to smoke every day. But if that happened, he knew he would have to do something to stop. 

Jean lit his cigarette and breathed in deeply. It was a pretty chilly morning, but he liked it. It relaxed him. And, after last night, he needed to be relaxed. 

After a few minutes, the door to the building opened. He didn't bother to turn around, figuring it was just someone going out for breakfast or coffee. 

"Jean?!"

Jean turned around, cigarette in his hand, and saw Marco. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He looked worried and appalled as he saw Jean, and then suddenly grabbed the cigarette from his hands, throwing it to the ground. 

"Hey-!"

"Why are you smoking?"

"It's not like I smoke all of the time, Marco, Jesus..." He looked at the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, but figured it wasn't worth it to pick it up. "I'm not addicted or anything, I swear."

"It's a really bad habit, Jean..."

"I know that," he snapped. "You didn't have to come out here and throw my cigarette on the ground, though."

Marco, his brow still furrowed with concern, hung his head lightly. "You're right... I'm sorry. I suppose if it's just having one every once in a while, it's okay. I just sort of panicked."

"It's alright," Jean shrugged. He didn't really feel like going through another cigarette, so he just accepted that the one the ground was his last for a while. "I guess it's my fault for not telling you I smoked."

"It's okay." Marco then smiled lightly. "Anyway, I came out here because I got a text from Bertholdt."

"Oh?"

"He wanted me to thank you for taking care of them last night," he explained. "And I'd like to thank you as well."

"It's no big deal... I enjoyed it, for the most part." He looked up at Marco. "Are you too hungover to go and get some breakfast?"

Marco grinned. "I think I'll manage. Let's go."

 


	5. Chapter Five

Jean had nearly had enough of parties from the last one at Connie's house, but Marco somehow convinced him to attend another the next weekend. 

"Why do you go to so many parties, anyway? You aren't exactly the best at keeping your alcohol down..." Jean said as they reached Connie's house. 

"Well I don't usually drink so much. But  _somebody_  said I should," he teased. 

"Hey, I didn't know you'd puke in a gutter!"

"Hey... We don't talk about that," Marco laughed. 

They went inside, and it was immediately loud and obnoxious. Jean stared at Marco as he smiled, his eyes cast down to the floor. He always had on a smile, and it was quite amazing. Marco always did his best to see the good in both situations and people. He had a totally different aspect of life that Jean wished he himself could have. 

"Hey, Marco!"

Suddenly, clouds rolled in and covered the crystal blue skies. The bright, abundance of sunshine that once existed seemed to fade away. 

There actually was no sunshine, because it was nine o'clock at night and they were inside, but Jean saw something similar to it on Marco's face. His real smile disappeared, and the one that replaced it was forced and stiff. 

The person who yelled to Marco intruded the two-person circle Jean and Marco had, creating an awkward-shaped triangle. 

"Hi, Collin," Marco said. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his body leaning slightly to the right, as if shying away from Collin. It was so subtle that Jean barely noticed. It seemed, to Jean, that Marco didn't like this guy very much. "I haven't seen you this year at all."

This Collin guy was taller than both Jean and Marco (who were about the same height), and had an overconfident stance. He wasn't sure if there was such a thing as an overconfident stance, but there was just something about this guy that screamed DOUCHE ALERT! DOUCHE ALERT! 

Collin's grey eyes landed on Marco, and his thin lips tilted up into a smirk. "What, did you think I transferred or something, Freckles?"

But then Collin looked past them, and was shouting something to someone he saw on the other side of the room. Jean looked to the floor, and under his breath he muttered, "Freckles is  _my_  nickname for Marco..."

Marco met his eyes, still looking a bit like a nervous puppy. He certainly wasn't as easy-going as usual, and Jean wanted to know why. 

"Right, sorry about that," Collin laughed. Then his eyes landed on Jean, like he was noticing him for the first time. "So who's this, Marco?"

"Oh, ah... This is my new roommate. Jean."

Collin jerked his chin up slightly, as if to say something douche-like, like  _sup?_

Jean stayed silent, and decided to just nod instead. He wondered what Collin was majoring in here at this college. Honestly, at first glance, he seemed like he was more athletic than artistic. He had sandy blond hair that was cut pretty short, an angular jaw, and wore a football jersey with jeans. So, maybe he wasn't an actual athlete. Just a fan of a certain football team. 

"Marco, I think I'm going to find Connie and Sasha..." Jean said, feeling uncomfortable with Collin now around. "I'll find you later, okay?"

Marco's eyes bore into Jean's, and there was almost a pleading look, with a side of panic. It made Jean immediately change his mind about leaving Marco alone, but it was too late. Collin was already inviting Marco to go talk to his friends. 

 _Oh, whatever_ , Jean thought.  _Marco probably just thinks the guy's annoying. He can handle that for an hour or so._

It didn't take long for Jean to find Connie. He originally, as he told Marco, was going to look for Connie  _and_  Sasha, but Sasha was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was near the food and drink tables. 

Connie slapped Jean on the back, and put a drink in his hand. "Hey, you made it!" Connie yelled, even though there was really no need to. He had obviously started drinking before everyone else. "Did Marco come?"

"Yeah, he did. He's around somewhere." Jean looked around. Not too far away, he saw Armin, a really smart kid from Marco's circle of friends. He was kind of a wuss, in some aspects, but somehow still a chick-magnet because of his sensitive side. Or, as girls often said, he was adorable. 

Eren and Mikasa were also there. Jean felt his cheeks heat up, and he glared lightly at the floor. Mikasa was a mystery to him. The girl herself wasn't a mystery, but how Jean felt about her. She was beautiful, of course, but she was so quiet and always stuck by her brother's side. Jean liked her and all, but she had such an icy cold barrier that would take forever to get past. And there were far more important things to do than chase after Mikasa. Especially after she threatened him the other night. 

Jean focused back on the conversation, his eyes straying from Mikasa. 

The alcohol eventually started to affect Jean. He felt as if time blurred past him, and all he could do was watch what happened around him. It even seemed that he could only watch his actions; not control them. 

A guy beside Jean was laughing. The girl on the other side of him--whom Jean couldn't remember if he'd met-- was laughing as well. She leaned against his shoulder, and leaned over his lap, her hands blindly brushing over places they shouldn't be. 

The drink in his hand was only half-empty, but he really had no desire to finish it. 

The girl ran her hands down his chest, tilting her head up and sticking her face close. Jean knew she wanted to make out with him, but before he could decide whether he would or not... he already was. 

He knew he should have been turned on by the girl. But, despite her tongue down his throat and her hands up his shirt, his mind was elsewhere. And he didn't know why, either. 

_Marco. Where did Marco go?_

Jean last saw Marco with that tall blond guy. He wondered if Marco escaped, or if he was still being bothered by Collin.

Jean pulled away from the girl, his head spinning as he stood up far too quickly. The girl complained loudly behind him, but he ignored her, looking around the room. 

"Jean? Whass wrong?" Connie asked over the music, his words slurring. 

"Marco," he answered. "Where's Marco?"

"I saw 'im upstairs."

Jean gained control of some of his senses, and headed for the stairs slowly. He was now happy he stopped drinking when he did. 

People upstairs were nearly more wild than they were downstairs. In fact, the upstairs and downstairs portions of the house pretty nicely separated the types of people at the party. Downstairs was mostly stoners and passed out drunks, and upstairs was filled with people still drinking and dancing to the music, and several people making out. 

How long had it been since he let Collin go off with Marco? An hour? Two hours? Or... Only mere minutes? 

And then he suddenly spotted them. Yes, they were still with each other. But they weren't casually chatting. Collin had Marco's wrist in his grasp, even as the dark-haired boy protested. And then Collin pulled Marco towards him, towards a bedroom. He had a smirk on his face as he watched Marco attempt to pull away. 

Jean became furious. He didn't know what to think. What the hell was Collin doing? It was just wrong to force sex, or even kissing, upon someone. But why would Collin force sex upon Marco, another guy? Collin, a popular jock, was gay? 

But that didn't mean he had the right to use Marco like that. Marco wasn't gay, right? 

Or maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe he was forcing Marco into a bedroom to play a videogame Marco didn't want to play, or watch a movie he didn't like. 

But whether Collin liked boys or girls didn't really matter. What mattered was that Collin decided to mess with the wrong guy; especially when that guy's friend and roommate was there. 

"Marco!" Jean rushed towards the room and nearly ripped the door off of his hinges. His eyes widened at the sight before him. The room wasn't a bedroom, so there wasn't a bed, but that didn't stop Collin. He had Marco forcibly pushed against the wall, one hand entangled in Marco's dark hair and the other unbuttoning his jeans.  

As soon as Collin saw Jean, he released Marco, a scowl on his face. 

"Jesus," he spat. "Can't someone have some privacy around here?"

Jean launched forward and grabbed the fabric of Collin's jersey. Collin was heavier than he anticipated, so instead of pushing him completely out of the way, Jean only managed to get him off of Marco. It was a start, though. 

"Jean...!" Marco's cheeks turned red hot. 

"How  _dare_  you touch him like that!" Jean shouted, glaring up at Collin, his heart pounding loudly within his chest. It was so loud in his own ears that he hoped no one else heard it as he did. 

"What does it matter to you who kisses and touches him?" Collin spat. 

"Because-!" Jean stopped short. Why  _did_  he care? Besides the obvious, of course- Collin and Marco were both guys. Marco was straight. And it really didn't look like Marco was enjoying himself. "Because he's my friend! And, because you're a  _guy_!"

"Oh..." Collin started to laugh. "I understand now. You don't know, do you, Jean?"

Jean flinched slightly. What could he not know? And what was there to know about Marco that had anything to do with this? 

"Let's just say that Marco and I were once close.  _Really_  close." Collin smirked. It was the most annoying smirk Jean had ever seen in his entire life. 

Jean balled his fists tightly, but before he could have the victory of knocking a few of Collin's teeth out, a new pair of hands stepped in, grabbing Jean's arm. 

"Stop it! Both of you!" 

It was Marco. 

Jean continued to glare at Collin, his muscles tense and his fists balled so tightly they began to hurt. 

"We should leave, Jean," Marco pleaded. It was the same tone from before. The same pleading that Jean had later regretting not giving in to. 

Jean stepped back, and Marco's hand was still on his arm, as if ready to steady him if needed. 

Collin frowned. "What, leaving already?"

Before Jean could throw a snarky remark, Marco was pulling him out of the room and downstairs. There were so many questions rushing through Jean's head, and he wanted to ask all of them at once. But, while focusing on not tripping down the stairs, it was impossible for him to ask one of his questions. 

They left Connie's house, and the cool night air hit them like a breath of fresh air after being surrounded by intoxicated people for so long. 

"You shouldn't have done that," Marco said over his shoulder. "You made a scene."

"I what?" Jean asked, astonished. "I just saved you from being sexually harassed by a guy. I think you should be thanking me."

Marco stayed silent for a moment.  "I could have handled it myself..."

"Then why did you let him do it?" Jean asked, looking down at the ground. "Why'd you let him go so far? If I were just a minute later, he would have stuck his fucking di-"

"Jean!" Marco turned around, flinching slightly from Jean's explicit language, but stopped him before he could finish. "It's not like I didn't try. I asked him to stop, more than once."

"Jesus Christ, Marco, are you dumb?" He snapped. "Freaks like him aren't going to stop just because you ask kindly."

Marco's eyes shot up, landing on Jean. He looked hurt, as though Jean had unintentionally pushed a button. "Freaks like him? What freaks?"

"You know... People who-"

"Gays?" Marco guessed. "I'm assuming that's what you were going to say."

"No! That's not exactly what I was going for..." Jean met Marco's eyes, which still looked hurt, and it was like two big halves of a puzzle clicking together to create the whole picture. "Hang on... Marco, are you...?"

"Yeah." Marco shrugged lightly, as if it was no big deal, but he looked ashamed. "But you don't have to worry about being my roommate; I wouldn't make a move on anybody without their consent, you know?" 

"Oh. Okay." Jean didn't know what to say. He was surprised about Marco's sexuality more than anything. He just... didn't seem gay. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you earlier. I didn't know."

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry for not telling you."

If Jean had learned his new roommate was gay before meeting him, he definitely would have had his doubts. But it was Marco. And Jean really liked Marco, even if he kept something that big to himself. 

"You aren't angry?" Marco asked. "Or grossed out?"

"No, of course not. It's a lot to take in so suddenly, but no," Jean answered. 

Marco looked so relieved to hear that; it was like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Jean could see Marco's body relax, and he smiled lightly. 

Jean stepped closer to Marco, with every intention to hug him. He wasn't sure why, exactly, except to just assure Marco that everything was okay. 

 _What the hell are you doing, Jean?_  he asked himself as he continued to step closer.  _Guy friends don't hug. The closest they get to hugging is a pat on the back._

But then he was hugging Marco, and it was too late to change his mind. 

"Jean..?" Marco asked. 

Jean felt his cheeks heat up, but he didn't move. Marco smelled of clean clothes and the forest. 

"I just wanted to let you know that it's okay. And that you're still my best friend," Jean said. 

"Best friend?" Marco asked teasingly. Jean could tell he was smiling. "When was my promotion from friend to best friend? I must have missed it." Marco finally hugged Jean back. 

It felt so natural to Jean; so right. And he was so comfortable... So peaceful... He laid his cheek on Marco's shoulder. 

"Jean.. Are you falling asleep?"

"Mrphsdr..." Jean muttered some incoherent words, leaning farther against Marco. "No..."

Jean fought to keep his eyes open, but before he could help himself, everything went black. 

* * *

Marco stumbled as Jean fell against him, partially passed out. He rolled his eyes, struggling to keep Jean up. Since he wasn't with Jean at all during the party, he wasn't aware that he'd had so much to drink. 

"Alright, Jean, let's go home..." As Marco took Jean to his truck, he couldn't help but still think about their conversation. He honestly thought that Jean would be disgusted with him. That he'd want a new roommate. 

He buckled Jean in, and hurried to the other side. Jean was leaning dangerously, his head tilted back against the seat. His Adam's apple protruded from his throat more than usual, and a thin line of drool crept from the corner of his lips. 

Marco drove them back to their dorm building, but on the way he couldn't help but still feel guilty. He told Jean that he wouldn't have to worry about Marco making a move on him, because he wasn't gay. And, he really would try his best not to, but it was actually very difficult. Usually Marco had no problem just being friends with guys. But Jean was different; Marco actually really liked him. But he also knew that liking Jean would probably only lead to trouble.

 


	6. Chapter Six

Thanksgiving break came and passed. Jean didn't go home until Thanksgiving day, where he ate with his family and then left the next morning. But, surprisingly, he had a nice time. Family from a few towns over came to visit as well, which didn't leave much time for Jean's parents to piss him off. 

On Thanksgiving night, Jean received a FaceTime call from Marco. He groaned in protest, but had eventually answered. Since the night of the party, they'd just grown closer. Every day they had new things to talk about, and they found things they had in common, and even shared inside jokes. Sometimes when they were hanging out, Marco would say something that would remind Jean he was gay (like compliment a guy on campus or joke about a girl not being his type) and he would be surprised. He often forgot all about it. 

Marco was grinning when Jean answered the FaceTime. He looked like a dork. A lovable dork. "Hi! I just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving! And I also wanted to ask what our homework was in Art History..."

"Hey. Thanks. You too." Jean told him their homework, and Marco thanked him. 

"It's really nice to be home again," Marco sighed. "The dorm rooms are so tiny."

Jean looked around at his own room, which was mostly empty, and shrugged. "I don't know... My room isn't much bigger than our dorm."

"You should show me your house!" Marco suddenly said excitedly. 

"You really don't want to see it..."

"But I do! I'll show you mine. I'll even let you meet my dog." Marco smiled. 

Jean knew his parents and family that was staying over would be asleep by now, so he agreed, putting in headphones so Marco could still talk. 

He switched to the back camera, first showing Marco his room. 

"It's kind of empty," Jean said. "I brought a lot of my things with me when I moved out." Then he showed Marco the upstairs, downstairs, and even their backyard. It didn't actually occur to Jean why Marco wanted to see his house until afterwards. Marco's major was Interior Design; he loved seeing how people decorated their houses and getting ideas. 

"Okay-" Jean sat back down onto his bed. "You can show me your house now."

And so Marco did. He stood up, and first showed Jean the room he was in. The room was large and spacious, with bookshelves, red, draping curtains, and a queen-sized bed against a wall. "This is my room-"

"Hang on... You're joking, right?" Jean asked. 

"No? Why?"

"Well... It's huge. You have a flatscreen tv mounted to your wall. And... Is that a bathroom connected to your room? You have your own personal bathroom??"

Marco laughed softly, sounding a bit embarrassed. "It's really my room... I guess you could say my parents make a lot of money. My dad's a lawyer, and my mom's a doctor."

"That's incredible," Jean said. "You're really lucky."

"I guess so. But, in the end it just means I hardly get to see them..." Marco paused for a moment. "Anyway, I'll show you the rest of the house now."

As Marco showed Jean around through FaceTime, Jean was amazed the entire time. Marco, as kind and sweet as he was, was a spoiled little rich boy. But despite his huge house and maid, he somehow stayed good, and didn't let money turn him into a stuck-up person.

"I just can't believe this. Your house..."

"My house is what?" Marco asked, returning to his room. He turned the front camera back on, showing his freckled face. 

"It's freakin huge. Why did you bother getting a tiny dorm when you could live  _there_?" Jean asked. 

Marco laughed lightly. "You know I live in Washington, right? It would be kind of hard to drive down to Portland every day."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense. Do you, um..." Jean paused. "Do you have one of those outdoor in-ground pools? How many acres do you have? Do you own a Porsche?" 

Marco chuckled again. "Yes, we have a pool. I have ten acres. No, I don't have a Porsche. Sometimes I don't even take my car back to the University, just because I never use it. I walk everywhere."

"Wow. I still just can't believe my best friend is rich and he never told me. Hang on, if you're so wealthy, why do you work at a café? You could have extra time to work on classes, or join a frat or something."

"Okay, there's a reason I didn't say anything, Jean. I'm not going to go around bragging about the money my parents make. And I'm not going to spend it all of the time like it's mine."

Jean looked down, frowning. "Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry."

"It's alright... Um, if you'd like to, maybe you can come to my house sometime. Maybe for a few days during Christmas break. It'd be really fun!"

Jean smiled. "I'd actually like that. Thanks, Marco."

* * * 

Marco returned from his huge house in Washington on the last day of Thanksgiving break, simply glowing with happiness. Jean was already in bed, but he lifted his head from his pillow, using his elbow to prop himself up. "What're you so happy about?"

"Hey, sorry to wake you. It's nothing." Marco sat his bags down, looking at Jean. "Well, it was something. I met someone I like."

"Oh. So you got laid? In... Whatever way that works."

"No, we didn't go that far." Marco sat down on his bed, kicking his shoes off. "We just talked. And he kissed me."

"Oh." Jean wasn't sure why, but the thought of someone kissing Marco made him angry. It was like the party all over again, except it was okay that a guy was kissing Marco. Because Marco wanted this, unlike how it was with Collin. And so Jean had to be happy for him. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Hm.." 

Jean averted his gaze as Marco took off his shirt, and changed into comfier clothes to sleep in. Even though the room was dark--thanks to Marco keeping the lights off as he came in--he could still see Marco's bare chest. 

"No," Marco decided, slipping under the covers of his own bed. "Anyway, enough about me. You probably want to get back to sleep. G'night."

"Night, Freckles."

Marco smiled widely, his eyes meeting Jean's. Then he closed his eyes, and pulled the covers up to his chin. Jean fell asleep rather quickly after that, with conflicting thoughts running through his mind. 

* * * 

College kept both Jean and Marco pretty busy. There were some night when they would hardly speak at all, and instead just stay hunched over their textbooks and laptops all night long, rushing to finish last-minute homework or a 1,000 word essay due at midnight that night. And sometimes Marco would finally finish his work, exhausted as he shut his laptop. Tonight was one of those nights.

Marco leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back so far he was watching Jean's back.

"You need help with anything?"

Marco's voice suddenly breaking the silence startled Jean. "Ah, I don't think there's anything you can help me with." The time was only 9:30. Jean desperately just wanted to fall asleep, since there was no class the next day. He began to live for the weekends, even if it meant he still had work to do. "I think I'm done for the night, though."

Jean swiveled around in his chair to face Marco, his lips turning up slightly as he saw how Marco was looking at him. It seemed impossible for him to actually laugh. He was so tired. It was visible in all of his actions; he moved sluggishly whenever he did the simplest things. 

"You've been working really hard, Jean. You deserve a break." Marco sat upright and turned to face Jean, becoming serious. 

"I'm alright, really. I'll catch up on sleep this weekend. Anyway, what about you? You've been staying up just as late as I have recently," Jean pointed out. 

"I also take one less class than you do, Jean." Marco smiled gently. His eyes were still bright even though he looked so exhausted. 

"True." Jean stood up and plopped down on his bed, burying his face into my pillow.

Marco gasped suddenly. "Hey! That's my pillow!"

"Hm?" Jean glanced at the pillow he was using, and remembered when he grabbed it from Marco's bed earlier to use. "Oh, yeah. It's just a lot comfier than mine is."

Marco smiled. "Well I'm very sorry, but I think I'm going to use it now."

Jean pursed his lips, clutching the pillow. "You can have mine..."

"Whaat?" Marco stood up and reached for the pillow under Jean's head, laughing. "Hell no. Mine is better."

"Yeah," Jean said, laughing along as he tightened his grip. "That's why I want it!"

"Ack! Hey...!" 

They wrestled playfully for the pillow, neither really putting much effort into it. 

Marco finally pulled his pillow out of Jean's grasp, and he made a quick dash for his own bed, just a few feet away. But Jean lunged after him as well, and they both toppled onto Marco's bed, laughing. 

It wasn't until Jean stopped laughing that he realized the awkward position he'd put them in. He held himself over Marco, his knees on either side of his waist. Jean watched Marco as he still laughed, his expression lit up and his freckles standing out against his pink cheeks. He took a moment to further observe Marco's face, his straight teeth that showed when he grinned and the thin lines near the ends of his eyes that appeared when he smiled wide enough. He almost looked more happy during this moment than he had in a long time. And, since they were both so tired, they knew they needed to be happy. 

And then, after Marco's laughter ended, Jean realized the awkward position they were in. He felt his cheeks heat up, and he moved away from his best friend. "Sorry. I'm actually pretty tired..."

Marco just smiled gently, and propped himself up with his elbows. "It's okay. You know... You can use my pillow if you'd like. I really don't mind."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's your pillow." Jean grabbed his own pillow, and then returned to his own bed. "You should really try to focus on keeping yourself happy over others."

"I can't help it." He laughed lightly. "I like it when others are happy... Especially you, Jean. You're my best friend."

Marco's warm eyes met his, and he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He hated this. And he wasn't sure when it started. When he began to feel slightly nauseous, nervous, and happy all at once while he was around Marco. He also wondered if Marco felt it, too. Maybe it was just because they were so close now, and Jean was realizing that Marco meant a lot to  
him. 

"Don't you feel the same way?" Marco asked. "Don't you enjoy when your friends are happy?"

Jean glanced at his friend, and then realized that the answer was yes. He knew he'd do anything to make Marco happy. In fact, he does a lot. He hangs out with Marco's friends in order to hang out with him, he offers to be the designated driver for his parties...

"Yeah," he said, "I guess you're right." Then he settled down under his covers. "Don't get all philosophical on me and start asking questions... I'm tired."

Marco let out a small laugh. "Okay. I'll get the lights. Good night, Jean." 

"Night." 

Jean slept like a log that night. And he didn't wake up until nearly ten thirty the next morning. Although the he didn't feel fully rested (did he ever?), he was happy he didn't have to pull an all-nighter like he has in the past. 

Marco was already up and gone, his blankets askew and his pillow completely gone. It only took a small glance down to his own pillow to realize Marco had put his pillow on Jean's bed, perhaps for if he wanted to use it. Jean felt his cheeks heat up furiously. 

_Damn Marco... Why do you have to be so cheesy, and so nice?_

Then Jean noticed the way he was holding Marco's pillow, and noticed that it smelled deeply of Marco, and his shampoo, and of fresh, clean cotton. And he realized he was being more cheesy than Marco was, clinging onto a pillow and admiring its scent. 

It was just a pillow. And Marco was just his friend.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

One day, when Jean came back to his dorm from his final Friday class, Marco was just getting ready to go, about four different things in his hands.

"Hi!" He smiled. "I'm a little late, so I have to get going..."

"Oh. Do you want a ride?" Jean asked. "It's not a whole lot faster, but it may help."

"That'd be great," Marco said, smiling. "But if you're sure, we gotta leave right now."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Jean took some of the things from Marco's arms, and they walked quickly down to Jean's truck. He started the engine and quickly pulled out of the parking lot, doing his best to go fast without actually breaking the speed limit. Luckily the café was just a couple of blocks away, and there wasn't as much traffic as usual. "I just wanna remind you that Ashton is supposed to come down tonight, and I'm meeting up with him tomorrow, so I may be gone a lot this weekend."

"Yeah that's fine," Marco assured him. "Maybe I'll get the chance to meet him!"

"Yeah, maybe. How late are you working today? It seems your boss has been making you stay late a lot recently," Jean said. He pulled into a parking space close to the café, and Marco opened his door.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'll let you know, though. Thank you so much for the ride!"

"No problem. See ya."

Marco hurried into the café, waving to Jean before finally shutting the door. Jean backed out of the parking space, and began to drive back to the dorm building. It got lonely on Fridays now that Marco worked late, and Jean had the whole weekend to do his homework. He knew he could do it that night, but he was a bit of a procrastinator.

Jean picked up dirty clothes around the dorm, just in case Ashton decided to come over early. Tomorrow they were going to meet up at the hotel he was going to stay at this weekend. Jean had originally thought of letting Ashton stay in their dorm, but there were some complications about policies, and he really didn't want to ask Marco to let some stranger invade his space for a full weekend. Space in their dorm was already really limited.

Jean knew it must sound like he was obsessed with Ashton or something; during meals with all of his friends and spare time with Marco he couldn't shut up about how his high-school best friend was coming to visit. Then he always ended up apologizing to Marco for rambling about him, and Marco would forgive him. And Jean would say something weird and sappy like, "he was my best friend in high school, but you're my best friend now." And Marco would smile and say something like, "Thanks, Jean."

It got later and later, and the sun came closer and closer to escaping behind the horizon. Jean finally decided to work on a paper that was due, munching on a granola bar and drinking coffee. Marco still hadn't come back, but Connie had stopped by to see if Marco wanted to hang out. Because only Jean was there, they just hung out for a few hours instead. Then Connie invited Jean to another one of his parties, which was happening that night. He replied with, "Maybe."

But now, as it neared eight o'clock, Jean was alone again.  _God_ , he thought,  _I really need a_   _girlfriend_. He thought about the girls he knew. There was Emma from Photography class. She was really nice to him, and he was pretty sure if he asked, she'd go on a date with him. There was also Mona, whom he didn't share any classes with but knew from the party. Considering how much she groped Jean that night, he was pretty sure she was single and even a bit desperate.

So he decided to go to the party after all. He slipped on his coat, made sure he looked okay in the mirror, and got his keys to drive to Connie's. This time he promised himself he wouldn't drink anything.

He remembered Connie's huge house as soon as he saw it, and really hoped Collin wouldn't be there. It seemed that the party was already in full-swing, with dancing and drinking and kissing. Ah, college. It's a magical place, if you know where to go.

Jean saw a girl who looked familiar near the fridge, getting a beer. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, and a pair of black glasses framed her blue eyes. Jean made his way to her, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Hey, Emma. How are you?"

She looked up at Jean, smiling shyly. "Oh, hi, Jean. I'm okay. How are you?"

"I'm good. I would ask if I could get you something to drink, but I see you already got one."

Emma laughed, looking down for a moment. "Sorry about that. I'll try to wait next time. Do you want anything to drink?"

"Oh, I can't, actually. I've got to drive home. Thanks, though," Jean answered.

Jean wouldn't say he was the best flirter. In fact, he was sort of clueless in some ways, especially if he didn't have alcohol to help him out. But it was already pretty easy with Emma, just because it was obvious she liked him, and she didn't have much experience flirting herself.

Jean and Emma continued to talk. They talked about almost everything, and got to know one another really well. Jean had to admit that Emma wasn't exactly his type from what he learned. For example, she really kept to herself most of the time, and spent her weekends studying. He liked smart girls, but he thought she took her classes almost too seriously.

There were some cool things about her, though. She was fluent in French and German. He actually really liked when she spoke French.

Emma was also really pretty. Her glasses sometimes hid her face, and she wore her hair back nearly 24/7. She was pretty then, but how pretty would she be with her hair done, makeup on, and a beautiful dress?

"At least you're good in that class!" Emma said, laughing.

"Oh, please. You're great in that class, Emma," Jean assured her with a smile. In one slow yet swift movement, he placed his hand over hers, which sat on the counter.

Emma's cheeks heated up as she stared at Jean, a faint smile on her face. "Well... Thank you."

She sat her beer down, and moved closer to Jean, placing a hand on his waist. He moved his face closer to hers, and finally-

Suddenly, Jean's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stopped where he was. It kept buzzing, indicating he was getting a call. Emma kept moving, however, a bit disappointed when she realized Jean stopped.

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping away. "No one really calls me unless it's an emergency. I should take this."

"Oh." Emma forced a smile. "It's alright."

Jean took out his phone and stepped into the hallway, where it was a bit quieter. Marco was calling. He swiped, answering the call, and out his phone to his ear. "Hey. You alright?"

"Yeah," Marco answered through the phone. "I just wanted to apologize for not telling you when I was getting off. Anyway, this place closes at ten, so I should be back around... Ten-thirty or so."

Jean glanced back at Emma, eager to get back to her. Until, that is, Marco said ten-thirty.

"Ten-thirty? You're kidding, right?" Jean asked, frowning. "That's ridiculous. Your shift technically ends at eight."

"Yeah, I know. It's just been really busy lately. My boss wants me to close up afterwards. You know, sweep the floors, put the chairs up and all that. He's busy."

"That's... That's dumb..." Jean sighed lightly, unsure of what to say. And unsure why he was so angry. He just thought it was ridiculous how much work Marco put into the café without being paid the proper amount of overtime. "You could find a place so much better to work at, you know."

"I know," Marco replied softly. "But it's okay, really."

Jean nodded, but then realized Marco couldn't see him. "Well I'll come pick you up, then. Ten-fifteen okay? I'll keep you company as you close up."

"You really don't have to do that... It's only a few blocks to walk."

"Well it isn't safe at night, Marco. I'm coming to get you no matter what." Jean paused, and then he smiled lightly. "Oh, God... I sound like a worried mother or some shit like that. Just think of it as a kind act, alright?"

"...Alright. Thank you."

"I'll see you in a bit."

Jean hung up, and slid his phone back into his pocket. Great. Now he'd have to blow off Emma. Though, for some reason he wasn't particularly upset about doing so.

He walked to her slowly. "Listen, Emma, I'm really sorry but something's come up, so I can't stay much longer. I've got to go pick up my roommate."

Her smile faded, but she nodded. "Oh. No, it's okay. I get it."

They talked more, but the kiss that nearly happened between them wasn't brought up, or even attempted again. Then, around nine forty-five, Jean decided to finally leave the party in order to get to the café in time. 

Jean slipped on his coat, and went out to his truck, saying goodbye to Emma. 

* * *

Jean arrived at the café just minutes after ten. Some dim lights in the kitchens were on, but the rest were off. The sign on the door was flipped to shut.

As he got out of his truck, the door opened, and Krista and a taller girl with dark hair stepped out.

"Hey, Krista!"

Krista looked up, and smiled when her light eyes landed on Jean. "Hey! Here for Marco, I presume?"

"Yeah. I just thought it would suck to have to walk home so late, that's all," Jean shrugged.

The taller girl cleared her throat lightly.

"Oh! Jean, this is Ymir... She goes to our college, too," Krista said, smiling at Ymir.

"Hi," Jean said. "I think I've seen you around."

"You probably have," Ymir smiled. The she looked down to Krista and put an arm around her shoulder. "Let's go home."

"Okay!" Krista smiled. She held the door open for Jean so that it wouldn't lock. "See you, Jean!"

"Bye!" Jean closed the door behind him. It was really weird to be in the café after dark, and even weirder since it was empty.

Marco, probably hearing Jean talk with Krista and Ymir, came out from the kitchens.

"Hey," he greeted. "You're early. I still haven't finished."

"Well what do you have left to do? I'll help," Jean offered.

"Really?" Marco asked, his face serious as he looked at Jean.

"Yeah, really."

"Oh. Thank you. Um, you can start putting all of the chairs into the tables, so I can sweep."

"Okay."

Jean started with the table closest to him, picking up the chairs and placing them upside-down on the table.

"Where were you when I called, anyway?" Marco asked. "I wouldn't have called if I knew you were busy."

"Oh, no, I wasn't busy..." Jean shrugged.

"...You're lying."

Jean finished with the chairs, and looked up to Marco, who was grabbing a broom.

"Okay... I was at Connie's. With Emma," Jean admitted.

"Oh, God." Marco frowned, and his cheeks turned pink. "Did I interrupt?"

"No! No, nothing happened. I almost kissed her, but I'm glad I didn't." Jean shrugged. "She's not my type. So, can I do anything else?"

"No, I really think that's it. Thanks, though."

So, while Marco quickly sweeped the floors, Jean sat on one of the stools in front of the counter, waiting patiently. His eyes landed on Marco's back as he worked. He could see the shape of his thin waist under his shirt, which led up to his broad shoulders. It was odd how tan he was in such a cold state; it must have something to do with his bloodlines.

Then Marco suddenly bent over, picking something up. Jean couldn't quite catch what it was, because he was too busy staring and blushing.

 _Did I just stare at Marco's ass_? He frowned lightly.  _And did I like it?_

"Okay, I think I'm done..." Marco headed for the trash and emptied the dust pan. Then, when Jean didn't move or acknowledge him, he sat on the stool next to him, their knees bumping as they faced each other. "You know... You can go back to the party if you want to, and drop me off at our dorm. I'm sure it's still going on."

Jean seemed to snap out of his daze- or, at least enough out of it to comprehend Marco's words. He shrugged. "It's really no big deal. You saved me from making a pretty big mistake, actually."

Marco chuckled. "You really didn't like her that much?"

"Not really." Jean tilted his head to the side, still observing Marco. "Do you have a P.E. class?"

"Do I... have a P.E. class?" Marco repeated slowly, confused. "That's a bit random. But no, I don't. Why?"

"Oh. I just... You're really fit."

"Oh, well thank you." Marco smiled lightly, leaning his arm against the counter. "And, speaking of thank you... I really appreciate you driving all of the way out here to pick me up."

"Well, how could I not? It's dangerous at night."

"Oh, right, I forgot," Marco teased. "You're like my protector from sexual harassment."

Jean laughed, and leaned his arm against the counter as well, brushing against Marco's arm. "That's right. I guess I'm gonna have to start escorting you to parties, and questioning boys you bring home before they take you on dates."

Marco's face lit up as he laughed, leaning closer to Jean. Jean laughed, too, but kept his eyes on Marco. He felt weird. He felt a desire to be close to Marco, and to touch his arm or feel his hair. Maybe to touch that small little strand in the front that was usually stubbornly astray, in a different direction than the rest. And, because he was the type of person to act without thinking, he did it. He reached his hand up to Marco's head, immediately regretting his decision, feeling embarrassed. Then he touched the stubborn strand of Marco's deep black hair.

"Y-your hair... There was a piece sticking up," Jean stuttered. He moved his hand down to Marco's cheek to try avoid the awkwardness. But that only made it worse.

Marco, with his cheeks red, brought his hand up and placed it over Jean's, his face close.

"Marco..." Jean glanced down at Marco's lips, his heart pounding.  _Why the hell do I feel this way? I feel so scared, so excited, and so... so hot. He's so hot..._ He pressed his forehead against Marco's, his eyes cast downwards.

Marco placed his other hand on Jean's thigh, and that's when he could no long stop himself. He pushed his lips against Marco's, and a tingling sensation swept throughout his body slowly. He felt as though he were having his first kiss all over again, except this one was far more intimate. And yet it wasn't intimate enough for him. It was like, as close as he was to Marco, it wasn't close enough.

_Jean... What are you doing?_


	8. Chapter Eight

Marco was the one to finally pull away, his cheeks hot and his lips red. 

Jean stared at him for a few moments, catching his breath. He removed his hand from Marco's cheek, and moved back on his stool. Marco stared at him, surprised and even a little hurt. "What's wrong?" He asked. He pulled away as well, crossing his arms self-consciously. "Oh. You didn't mean to do that, did you?" He stood up quickly, turning his back to Jean. "Shit. I'm- I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

Jean stayed silent, still horrified with himself. Did he even have any control over himself just then? He put a hand over his mouth, licking his lips. The taste of Marco remained on his lips. Jean could tell what type of coffee he'd had that day, and that he'd eaten a mint candy. He felt bad for not bringing Marco anything to eat when he picked him up. He was probably hungry after working all day. 

But, the worst part about all of this was that deep down, Jean liked the kiss. 

"Jean... Please don't hate me," Marco begged. "Jean."

Jean finally looked at Marco, noticing his eyes were damp with tears threatening to spill. It was the most distraught he'd ever seen his friend. 

"You're the best roommate I've ever had. I don't want to lose you."

Jean stood up, keeping his eyes lowered. "Let's go," he mumbled. 

Marco followed after Jean like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs, locking the door to the café before getting into Jean's truck.

Jean drove them back to the dorm rooms, but didn't get out of the truck. 

"I'm... I'm gonna go to Ashton's," Jean said, refusing to make eye contact with Marco. "I'll see you later."

Marco opened the door, his movements slow and forced. "I'm really sorry, Jean."

Jean finally glanced at Marco, and was surprised at what he saw. A few tears had actually fallen, making his cheeks red and blotchy. Jean was unaware that their friendship really meant that much to Marco. 

"It's not your fault," Jean said quietly. "Bye, Marco." He started his engine, and Marco eventually shut the truck door. 

Jean waited until Marco was in the dorm building to leave, but only because there was still a part of him that couldn't be mad at Marco. After all, Jean had been the one who initiated the kiss first. And Marco was Marco. He was the boy who was always laughing, always happy, and could make Jean give in to anything with just his dumb, innocent smile. 

Jean pulled out his phone, texting Ashton's number. 

_Hey. I know it's late, but I need somewhere to stay tonight._

Thankfully, Ashton was still up. 

_I'm at Rose Hotel, on Johnson Street. Room 204._

_Thanks_ , Jean texted back. He knew exactly where Rose Hotel was. 

He was tired, frustrated, and even upset, but he did his best to focus on driving in the busy city. Luckily, Ashton's hotel wasn't very far away. Jean soon found it; it was a tall, tan, skinny building that stuck out like a thumb among the darker buildings. It looked old on the outside, but as Jean walked in he assumed the entire interior must have recently been redone. 

The excitement finally began to creep is as he neared room 204, knocking on the door. The knocks were loud compared to the extreme quietness of the hallway. 

Finally the door opened, and a tall young man stood before him, with a lanky, awkward body and blond fringe hanging in his grey eyes. He had a beanie over his hair, and a silver lip ring pierced into his lower lip. 

Ashton smiled widely. "Hey. Everything alright?"

Only at that moment did Jean realize how much he had missed Ashton. He missed his awkwardness and his humor and how the first thing he said wasn't 'it's been so long' or 'it's late', but 'everything alright?'. 

"Not exactly," Jean answered. Ashton closed the door behind Jean as he entered. The hotel room was small but cozy, and decent for the price. There was a single full bed, and a small television, too. 

"Well sit down, and we'll talk. You want some coffee?" Ashton offered. "The coffee may be shit here, but it's free, so.."

Thinking of coffee made him think of Marco, so he politely declined, sitting on the small bed. There wasn't really anywhere else to sit. 

"Okay-" Ashton sat on the bed, sitting cross legged and making himself comfortable. Then he smiled, his lip ring being pushed to the side. "Tell me everything. Was it a fight with your parents?"

Jean rolled his eyes. "You're a little late with that one," he jokingly mumbled. Then he grew serious. "Okay. So..." He shifted, his hands fumbling as he tried to do something with them instead of sitting awkwardly. "I kissed my best friend..."

Ashton was quiet, and he tilted his head, frowning. "Hm. I don't remember you kissing me..."

"You know what I mean," Jean sighed. 

"I do," Ashton said. "So what's the big deal? Do you like her?" 

Jean cringed. "That's the problem. He's a he."

Ashton stared blankly at Jean for a moment, obviously unsure of what to say to such a thing. 

"Oh. So you're gay?"

Jean's cheeks became hot, and he scoffed, looking away. "No. I don't know... I can't picture myself ever liking a guy. But Marco, he's..."

Ashton leaned forward, grinning smugly. "You  _looove_ him!" 

"I do not! It's just so embarrassing."

"What? Being gay?"

"No, kissing him," Jean said.

"Okay, tell me the whole story. From the beginning. I want every detail you can give!"

Jean scowled. "What are you, a gossiping teenage girl?"

"If that's what it takes for you to tell the story, then that's exactly what I am," Ashton laughed. 

So Jean told Ashton everything, first including the night Marco admitted he was gay, and then to when Jean went to pick up Marco from his work. And, as he told it, he realized his actions really did make it seem like he liked Marco more than a friend should. 

"So," he said once he finished, "what do you think?"

Ashton pursed his lips, taking a good long moment to think about it. Jean leaned forward, eager for his opinion. 

Finally Ashton met Jean's eyes. "Kiss me," he said. 

Jean scowled, disappointed that he waited so long for such a crappy conclusion. "Fuck off."

Ashton laughed lightly. "No, I'm not trying to make fun of you. I wanted to see if you kissing me would do anything for you. That way we could see if you liked all guys, or just this Marco."

"We're having this problem because I kissed my friend. I think kissing my other friend would just create another problem..." Jean grumbled. "Besides, you're straight."

"Well you think you are, too," Ashton pointed out. "Come on, man up and just do it."

"Okay,  _fine_! Just..." Jean stared at Ashton, but then looked away. "I don't know if I can do it. Close your eyes, maybe-"

Jean was cut off suddenly as Ashton held Jean's face with his hands, and pressed their lips together. 

It was a kiss, of course, and though it was a nice kiss, it was weird to be kissing his friend. And a guy. Jean had kissed more guys just that day than he thought he would in his entire life. 

Ashton tilted his head and deepened the kiss, the overall experience becoming less forced and more relaxed, but no less awkward. 

Jean soon broke the kiss, looking down. Ashton sat back where he was, looking expectantly at his friend. "Well? Gay for guys or gay for Freckles?"

"I don't know... It... definitely wasn't the same as Marco..."

"Ah. Gay for Freckles, it is." Ashton laughed. "Aw, look at you. You're so embarrassed."

"Shut up!" Then Jean finally looked up. "Thanks, by the way... For doing that to help me. You're... a pretty good kisser."

Ashton grinned, shrugging. "I know."

* * * 

Jean ended up staying the night in Ashton's hotel room, letting Ashton have the bed as he used a duvet and pillow on the floor. It actually was almost just as good as the bed in his dorm.

Ashton was still fast asleep when Jean awoke, but that was alright with him. For some reason, even after their experimental kiss last night, Jean didn't feel awkward around him. Because Ashton was just his straight friend from high school; there was nothing more than friendship between them. He's known the boy since grade school, even. So why, Jean wondered, couldn't it be like that with Marco as well? 

Jean made himself a cup of coffee as he sat in the "kitchen" (it was simply a counter with a sink and a microwave) and pulled out his phone. As much as he was dreading having to talk to Marco again, he knew he would have to eventually. He couldn't just stay away from his new friend forever; even if their embarrassing moment in the café would humiliate Jean for the rest of his life. 

He pressed Marco's name on his phone, and put it up to his ear, hearing it ring. 

One ring.  _Okay. So his phone is on._  Two rings.  _Maybe he's sleeping?_ Three rings.  _Or maybe he doesn't want to talk to me..._

 _"_ Hi." It was both relieving and terrible that Marco finally answered. "You okay?"

Jean chewed on his lower lip. "Yeah," he answered, keeping his voice low. "You?"

"Yeah." Marco was silent for a moment. "Listen- if you want to pack your things but don't want to see me, I can leave for a bit-"

"I do want to see you."

"Oh." Marco sounded slightly relieved. "I'm glad. I can help you pack, then."

"I don't want to pack my things, either. I still want to be your roommate, Marco. And your friend," Jean told him. 

"Oh." Marco was obviously grinning, his voice light and pleased. "So you aren't mad at me?"

"It was my fault; I don't really know what I was thinking. Maybe we just shouldn't talk about it," Jean suggested, stirring his coffee. But the dark liquid was the last thing on his mind when talking to the dark haired boy on the other line. 

"Okay," Marco quickly agreed. 

"Okay. So, are you doing anything this weekend? I'd still like you to meet Ashton while he's here."

"Nothing at all!"

"Cool. We could meet up somewhere."

"Ooh, I know. I still haven't taken you to the bowling alley, have I? We should go there," Marco suggested. 

Jean glanced at Ashton as he stirred under the covers. He was starting to wake up. 

"Bowling alley sounds great. It isn't a teenage hangout or anything, is it? Or a kid's hangout?"

Marco laughed. "No, it's mostly students from the university." His laughter died out, and he cleared his throat. "So I'm guessing you made it to Ashton's safely?"

"Yeah... I did. I'm sorry if I worried you, Marco."

"It's alright. Anyway, when do you want to meet up?" Marco asked. 

"I think I'm gonna come back to the dorm in a bit. Is tomorrow okay to hang out with Ashton?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. See you soon."

Jean eventually went back to the dorm after discussing the bowling alley plans with Ashton. Ashton was excited to go, of course, and especially excited to get to meet Marco. 

"It'll be like a double date! Except I won't have a date," he had said. 

"Shut your face," Jean retorted. "It isn't a date."

When Jean saw Marco again, he felt his cheeks grow hot. 

_I kissed him last night._

But Marco acted completely normal and friendly towards Jean, which helped to make things less awkward. Jean was thankful that they could put this behind them quickly, and not get worked up over it.

 


	9. Chapter Nine

They met Ashton at the bowling alley Saturday night, buying a lane and getting on their bowling shoes.

"So, you're the famous Freckles," Ashton joked as he sat next to Marco. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Jean rolled his eyes. "You didn't even know the name of my roommate until the other night."

Marco just laughed. "It's nice to meet you, too. Jean has said a lot about you."

Ashton smirked in Jean's direction. "He has, has he?"

_Jesus, what was I thinking? Putting Ashton's sarcasm and Marco's innocent friendliness together was not a good idea._

"Whatever. Let's just bowl, alright? I'm going to get a drink. You two want anything?"

"I want a Coke!"

"I'll have a cherry Dr Pepper, please!"

So he went to get the drinks, leaving the two to talk by themselves. Sure, it was a dangerous thing to do, but Jean had to leave and let his cheeks return to their normal color. 

Marco and Ashton were both his friends, but they were also more than that (unfortunately). They were boys he had both kissed. And if Ashton said one little thing about the other night.... Jean thought he might kill him. 

Ashton and Marco had the game ready to go when Jean returned with the drinks, balancing them dangerously in order not to spill one. Ashton was up first, and he dramatically--and flamboyantly-- flung the bowling ball down the alley. 

Marco laughed when he saw Jean, and grabbed the cherry Dr Pepper. "Thanks, Jean. I really like your friend; he's funny!"

"Ha... His humor sometimes creates problems, though. Did he bother you too much?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Marco glanced at Ashton as he finished his bowling round. "Well, guess it's my turn."

Neither Jean nor Ashton were very good at bowling, but Marco was pretty experienced. His excuse was that he came here last year all of the time, when this place was the hangout for his group of friends. 

Jean thought it was really dorky that Marco and his friends would bowl in their spare time. But... he also thought it was cute. That's what Marco was, really. He was this strange paradox of dorky and cute, with no way to tell where the dorky-ness stopped and the cuteness began. 

A part of himself hated that he had thoughts such as those. The other night he did something stupid and then ran from Marco. Now, just the same weekend, he was thinking about how cute Marco is? 

_I blame Ashton. Making me think I've fallen in love with him or something... I mean, can you imagine? In love with another guy?_

He wasn't homophobic or anything, obviously, since he had a gay roommate. But he could never imagine himself being with a guy. 

"Jean, you're up, bro!" 

Jean picked up one of the bowling balls that felt pretty heavy, but not too heavy for him to pick up. He really didn't know anything in the slightest when it came to bowling and the best techniques; all he knew was that you were supposed to knock down the pins with the heavy ball. Sounded simple enough, right?

He flung the ball gently down the lane, smirking as he watched what would become an impressive victory. Except, instead of happening the way he imagined, the bowling ball veered towards the gutter before it fell in, hitting one pin on the way. 

"Whoo! Go, Jean!" Ashton cheered, sarcasm laced in his tone. 

Jean felt his cheeks heat up as he turned around, glaring at his friend. Ashton was smirking, his lip ring being pushed down. 

"Shut up!" He snapped, waiting for his bowling ball to return. "It's not like I do this very often..." 

Marco laughed. "We can ask the man at the front desk to put up the bumpers for you, Jean..."

"I'm not a kid! I don't need any bumpers!"

"Are you sure? It's really not a bad thing, and adults use them, too." Marco stood up, smiling stupidly. Jean hated it. Why did Marco have to smile all of the time, anyway? Especially when Jean was annoyed; it made it seem like Jean was the child throwing a temper tantrum and Marco the mother, gently scolding and laughing at the child's foolishness. "I'll go put them on for you, alright?" 

Marco patted Jean's shoulder lightly before heading back to the front desk, still smiling at his scowl. 

"Fine, whatever..."

As soon as Marco left, Ashton slid next to Jean. "He is  _so_  flirting with you."

"Excuse me?"

"What, have you not noticed?" Ashton seemed surprised. 

"I've noticed! I mean... I haven't noticed that, because he isn't flirting with me, but I've noticed that he's nice."

"Alright..." Ashton said uncertainly. "So he's just being nice. Really really nice."

"That's right. Besides, after the other night, he said I didn't have to worry about him flirting," Jean explained. 

"Well I hate to tell you, but he was lying. Here, quick- I'll kiss you so he gets jealous."

Ashton leaned closer, puckering his lips, and Jean pushed him away. 

"Jesus, Ashton, that isn't going to do anything. Why are you wanting to kiss guys all of a sudden? Don't tell me you're coming out of the closet?"

Ashton laughed, as if the words didn't affect him at all. "Nah, I'm as straight as a nail. Well, most of the time. Kissing you was an exception. But it was for a good cause, right?"

Jean just snorted. Soon, Marco returned and took his turn in the bowling match. He was ahead in the game already, far ahead both Ashton and Jean. Even with the bumpers up, Jean just did a mediocre job. 

Jean released the bowling ball, letting it roll down the lane, not even hitting the bumpers at all. It had taken a while, but he was getting better. They were now nearly finished with their game. 

"Hey, Jean!" Marco called to him. He and Ashton had gone to refill their drinks, but now they were with three others. Connie, Sasha, and even Emma, with her dark hair and black-framed glasses. "Look who showed up!"

Jean forced a smile. He was actually enjoying just hanging out with his two best friends.  Now Marco's other friends were here, and he would hang out with them, and it just wouldn't be fair. Plus, Emma was here, and he thought it might be awkward considering he blew her off the other night.

As Connie, Sasha, and Emma began to set up their game, Jean decided to head out for a cigarette. 

He found a half-empty pack in his truck, not entirely sure when he even bought them, and lit one up, leaning against the driver door. He barely was able to take one drag before Marco came out and joined him. 

"Smoke?" Jean offered. 

Marco grimaced. "You know I don't smoke... It's been a while since you had one, as well..."

"I just have one every once in a while," he shrugged in return, mumbling through the cigarette between his lips. 

"Anyway, I hope you're alright with them here. I know you said you didn't like Emma very much..." 

Jean just shrugged again. "Yeah, it's alright." He blew smoke into the air, suddenly feeling a little foolish for smoking when Marco was there. He preferred to smoke alone. Besides, it's not like he smoked very often... Once a month, at the most. It was a miracle he wasn't addicted to them by now. He remembered the first time Marco ever caught him smoking. It resulted in a half-smoked cigarette being forced out of Jean's hand and a thirty minute lecture. This time was better, though. 

"Alright, good." Marco looked down at his feet, kicking a pebble with his boot. It was clear he didn't know what to say next, and yet was afraid of the conversation between them becoming awkward. 

"Listen," Jean tapped his cigarette, causing ash to fall. "If you want to play a few games with them, it's alright. I can come back later to pick you up."

"What? Why would I do that? I want to hang out with you."

"Really?" Jean pursed his lips. "But they're your friends."

"And so are you and Ashton. Besides, I came here with you guys. I'm not going to ditch you." Then he laughed. "Unless you two want some alone time..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jean scowled. 

"Well, Ashton told me what happened between you two."

Jean stiffened, suddenly inhaling too much smoke, and having to take a moment to cough. 

Marco looked concerned, and patted Jean's back lightly. "Jeez, I didn't mean to get you so worked up... Don't die or anything."

"He... He did  _what_?!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything..."

Jean still couldn't tell if Marco was talking about his kiss with Ashton, or something else. Though, he had a good feeling it was the kiss. Or, a bad feeling.

"He told me that you two kissed after you and I kissed. I'm not mad or anything. It's just, after our kiss I was under the impression that you were straight."

"What are you talking about? Didn't Ashton tell you why we kissed?"

"Well... No, I guess he didn't get the chance to before Connie and them came in. But I assumed you kissed because you were attracted to one another," Marco admitted, blushing lightly. 

"That's not it at all! After I told him what happened between us at the café, I..." Jean looked away, wondering if he should tell the truth. "We wanted to see if I was attracted to guys. It was a one time thing."

"Oh." Marco almost looked relieved. "Wow. That really changes things, then. I'm sorry for being so quick to judge. So you aren't? Attracted to guys, that is?"

Jean opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Ashton exited the building. 

"Hey, I don't know if you know this, but there's a lot of people in here that want to hang out with you two!" Ashton yelled. 

Marco smiled. "Sorry! We're coming!" And then he started to walk back. "You coming, Jean?"

"Yeah..."

He didn't get to finish his answer. 

_"So you aren't? Attracted to guys, that is."_

_"Only to you."_

*  _*_ *

A few weeks later, Jean returned to his dorm, exhausted yet relieved that the same time. He'd just gone to his last class before break, and finished his last final. Finals week had been absolute hell, and he had often shut himself into solitude with his textbooks and a large cup of coffee. 

Marco had done the same thing, really, except he handled finals week with a little more finesse than Jean. He still managed to get around seven hours of sleep, and constantly smiled. 

Jean collapsed onto his bed. He didn't have anything to do now that his classes were over. All he could do was sleep. Not that he was going to complain. 

He was halfway asleep when when the door opened, and he guessed Marco was back. 

"How'd it go?" He mumbled underneath his covers.

"I think I did well," Marco said hesitantly. "Man, you're already almost asleep... I'm jealous."

"Then come sleep."

"Hm. Don't mind if I do."

Marco dropped his things and then plopped down next to Jean on his bed, pressing his back against Jean's. 

"Mfph.. I didn't mean here..."

But neither of them moved. Jean didn't think it was worth it to make him move. He liked the feeling of Marco's back against his own, and the feeling of his body moving slightly as he breathed in and out was relaxing in the cool, dark room. Jean pulled the covers up, pulling them over his friend's body as well.

They both had a certain kind of intimacy by then; one that was platonic and comfortable, and not romantic whatsoever. At least, that's what they told themselves. Jean liked to think that their intimacy would increase. He sometimes had thoughts about just telling Marco that he couldn't get him out of his mind, but he always decided against it. He would hate to ruin their friendship. Plus... He wasn't gay, right?

That's what he kept telling himself, at least. 

 

* * * 

A/N: To those of you who have read this story so far, thank you so much! I know this story isn't much, but I'm putting in all I've got. I'll update soon! 

 


	10. Chapter Ten

It was officially winter break. The thought of being able to sleep in every morning and stay up late all night was very appealing to Jean. But the idea of holidays and family? Not so much. 

Marco was a little more thrilled. But just a little. He wasn't exactly happy to see his family, but just to go back to his hometown for the week. 

"It's really a beautiful place. It should have more snow than we have here, and there's an ice rink everyone goes to this time of year."

Neither of them had started to pack yet, since they decided to spend the first week of break still on campus, and the second week (Christmas week) they would go home.

"Hey, ah... How's it going with Lainie, by the way?" Marco suddenly asked. 

Lainie was a girl Jean had met at Marco's café just last week, and she gave him her number. It was a nice thought, and Jean thought she was very beautiful, but he just had no interest in being anything more than friends. 

"I never called her, actually..."

"What? Why not? She's going to think you aren't interested," Marco said to him. 

"Well I'm not..." Jean shrugged lightly, glancing at his phone in his hands. He had been scrolling through Facebook and seeing some posts from his family, but he had put his phone down once Marco began to talk to him. 

"Jean... I don't want to nag you or anything, but if you keep ignoring everyone, you're going to be forced to hang out with me all of the time!" Marco joked, smiling. 

Jean laughed lightly. "That's all I want to do, really."

He wasn't sure why he said it. Well, he knew why. Because it was the truth. He just didn't know why he said it out loud, in front of Marco. Yes, Marco was one of his only friends, but he didn't really care. He liked being with the freckled boy. 

Marco just smiled. "Me, too. Hang out with you, that is."

Then Jean suddenly looked away, staring at the white wall. "How's Tate?"

Tate was hired at the café a couple of weeks ago, and it had been Marco's job to train and look after him. Act as a mentor, in a way. Tate was pretty cute, even if Jean hated to admit it, but also pretty young. He was eighteen, but didn't plan to start attending the University until spring term. Thank God. It would be terrible if Jean would have to watch Marco hang out with Tate more than he already did. 

It's not that Jean  _hated_  Tate or anything... It was just kind of irritating to see someone take up Marco's time. And it was even more irritating when Tate would flirt with Marco, right in front of whoever was there. Even Jean. He remembered what happened just the other day, when Jean came to the café with Reiner and Bertholdt to see Marco. 

_Jean opened the door to the café, holding it open for Reiner to get, and then Bertholdt. Ymir was the first to notice him, and she smirked._

_"Here for Marco? I'll let him know."_

_"Thanks, Ymir," Jean replied, and the three of them took a seat at the bar._

_Krista was the next one to see them, and she smiled brightly, her cheeks rosy. "Hi, Jean! Hi, Reiner, Bert. Do you guys want anything?"_

_"I'll just have a Pepsi, please," Jean decided._

_Reiner leaned against his elbow, smiling._ _He_ _seemed_ _completely_ _awestruck with Krista, as usual. Jean had a weird stance on then. He sort of rooted for Reiner to gain the nerve to ask Krista out, but then there was Ymir, who hardly ever let the blonde girl out of her sight. So, if that didn't work, he always thought Reiner and Bertholdt made a good team. If not romantically, the_ _n_ _certainly_ _platonically._

Hey _, he thought,_ whatever floats their boat.

_Krista placed a glass of Pepsi in front of Jean, along with a straw, and soon Marco came out, smiling widely when he saw them. The café was nearly empty, so none of them had very much to do._

_Jean opened the straw, placing it in his drink. "Hey, Freckles," he teased, taking a sip._

_"Hey, guys! You didn't have to come see me..."_

_"We wanted to," Bertholdt replied, smiling gently._

_"Although, some of us didn't come to see you," Reiner said, smirking._

_Marco laughed lightly, making sure Krista and Ymir were both in the kitchen. "Well, either way, it's really nice of you."_

_Suddenly, a new face came out from the kitchens. He was decently tall, and pretty lanky. His hair was dark and messy, sticking up in several directions. He looked like he could still be in high school, with a slim face and bright, green eyes. "Hey Marco, I finished! All thirty-six salt shakers filled with salt!"_

_Marco smiled. "Great! Oh, Tate, these are my friends. They'll be coming around a lot. This is Jean, Reiner, and Bertholdt. Jean is my roommate, actually._

_This guy, Tate, smiled at them, leaning against the counter he was closest to. And bumping against Marco's shoulder in the process._

_He looked at Jean. "Roommate, huh? Well, you'd better get used to me. I'll be coming around a lot, too."_

_Tate smirked, and then shot a wink in Marco's direction before heading back to the kitchen._

_"Nice meeting you guys!" He called out before entirely disappearing._

_Jean felt sick. And shocked._

_"What the hell was that?" Reiner asked. "Marco, are you two dating?"_

_Marco's cheeks were flushed, and he walked around the counter to sit with them, next to Jean. "No, that's not it. He's just... flirty, that's all. He's joking around." He laughed nervously._

_"He totally crossed the line," Jean snapped. "He was definitely suggesting something sexual. Isn't that, like, sexual harassment in the workplace or something?"_

_"Jesus, Jean, it's not like he's violating me after closing hours... He just likes to tell jokes," Marco frowned. By now, Reiner and Bertholdt were feeling awkward, and pretended not to listen._

_"Is he gay?"_

_"What? Why would you ask that? Don't you think it's a little personal when you've just met him?"_

_Jean's fists tightened, and he glanced away, trying not to seem too interested. "He is, isn't he?"_

_"So what if he is?" Then Marco looked around, and sighed gently. "Let's not talk now..."_

_"Fine." Jean leaned against his elbow, pursing his lips._

The whole thing had put him in a bad mood, but they eventually sort of sorted things out. Basically Jean said that he didn't like the sound of Tate, and suggested he and Marco keep a work-friendly friendship. To which Marco argued that he could date whomever he wanted, and maybe he  _would_  date Tate. 

_"Okay," Jean had said, "now you're just doing it to piss me off."_

_"Maybe I like him. Who gives you the right to decide who I can be with? Jean... You're my best friend, but it's not like you're my boyfriend or anything. You can't get jealous."_

_"I'm not jealous!"_

Of course, they couldn't fight for long. They were never ones to hold grudges against each other. Marco agreed to be careful around Tate, and Jean agreed to not get jealous. But Marco knew he would get jealous anyway. 

"Tate's fine," Marco responded. "I hope you don't mind that he still flirts with me? I mean... I kind of like him..."

"Yeah, you can do whatever. As long as I get to be the best man on your wedding day."

Marco laughed. "I'd prefer not to look that far ahead... I don't like him that much yet..."

They stayed in their dorm together a little while longer before deciding to go out for a walk and a quick bite to eat. It was still really cold, but not cold enough for there to be snow. It never snowed here. It just rained, like, all of the time. And yet hardly anyone ever used umbrellas.

Today, however, was cloudy but dry, and so they were able to get food from some of the food carts that lined the streets just a couple of blocks away. They were a popular choice among students from the University. Jean ordered a burrito, and quickly began to much on it. Finals week had taken a lot out of him, and he had mostly lived on coffee, energy drinks, and top ramen. It was amazing to be eating real, delicious food for a change. 

Marco laughed lightly as Jean ate. "Be careful... You're going to choke or something."

"Mphf..." Jean chewed the bit of burrito in his mouth, swallowing. "It's so good, though! What are you going to get?"

"Hm..."  He eyes the food carts again, a smile on his face. "I think I might get some Chinese. Why don't you save a seat for us? I'll be there in a moment."

"Okay."

Jean found a nearby bench that no one was using, and sat down with his half-eaten burrito. He watched as cars passed, stopping often for streetlights and pedestrians and bicyclists. 

Marco returned shortly with his food, and two water bottles gripped in his hand, threatening to fall. 

"Ah, here, before it falls. I got you some water."

Jean quickly took one of the water bottles. "Oh, thank you."

They sat on the bench together, and watched the busy city life as they ate. Marco waited a while for his food to cool off before finally tasting it. His face lit up. 

"Mm, this is delicious! Here, try some!" Marco grinned happily and held out his fork, the food waiting for Jean eat it. But did Marco really expect to be fed like a toddler here in public?

 _Oh, whatever... No one's paying attention,_  he thought. He leaned closer to Marco and ate the food from his fork, blushing as he chewed. Marco was blushing, too, but he was still smiling gently as he awaited Jean's reaction to the food. 

"It is good... Thanks."

"No problem!"

Then Marco, in between eating his lunch, jumped suddenly into a story he'd just remembered. Jean listened, of course, but he let his mind roam simultaneously. As he listened and ate, he shifted his foot, and his knee touched Marco's lightly. And it stayed there. 

He attempted to see if Marco noticed, or even cared, but he seemed totally oblivious. Or perhaps Jean was just making a big deal out of something as dumb as their knees touching. It seemed like something a high school girl would get excited over, when sitting next to her crush in the cafeteria. 

_Why do I care if he notices? Why do I want this small amount of intimacy between us? And what about Tate?_

He still hated what he did that one night with Marco in the café. It wasn't so bad that he kissed his male best friend; that he could get over. He hated how badly he reacted, because ever since then, he's had the strangest urge to kiss Marco again. 

"So how's your family? I know you don't like to talk about them that much..." 

Jean was surprised that Marco even cared enough to ask about his family. Jean rarely ever brought them up. 

"They're fine, I think," he replied dryly. "Probably still nagging even after I've moved out."

"I'm sure they miss you," Marco gently said. "And I think they'll like seeing you for Christmas."

" _I_  don't want to see them, though. Because it won't just be them. It'll be my aunts, my cousins, my grandparents..."

"Let me guess," Marco laughed, "asking why you dye your hair and judging your piercings?"

"Exactly. It sucks." Jean pursed his lips and glanced at Marco. "Do your family members pester you about things?"

"Not really... We don't have big family gatherings. It's just me and my parents," he said. 

"Really?" Jean took another bite of his burrito. "Why's that? You have that huge house and yet people don't come over? I thought you would have a huge Christmas Eve party or something."

"Ha... I'm afraid not. Sometimes my parents even work on Christmas Eve..." He played with his food for a moment, keeping his eyes down. "Consider yourself lucky, Jean. Your family loves you."

Jean stiffened as he listened to Marco. He wasn't sure if he'd ever felt more sad for his friend. He didn't want to be with his loving family, while Marco just wanted his to love and spend time with him. Why did it have to be that way? It was so unfair, and yet neither could do a thing about it. 

"Your family loves you, too, Marco," Jean snapped. He hated to see Marco like this. "Ask them to stay home with you. And if they don't... Screw them for not wanting to be with their amazing son who is accomplishing amazing things at college. If they leave you alone for Christmas, I'll drive to your house myself to keep you company."

Jean's appearance probably would have scared off anyone he didn't really know; he could feel his anger rising in his chest as he clenched his fists. 

Marco deserved so much more than what his parents gave him. They gave him money, and a big house, and material things, but all he wanted was their presence. 

Marco smiled warmly, his cheeks pink from listening to Jean's words. He looked away, as if embarrassed. "Jean... Thank you so much! That really does mean a lot to me."

Jean's anger seemed to immediately dissolve when he gazed upon Marco's blushing freckled cheeks, and his genuine smile. "I-It's no problem..."

"I don't want you to come up on Christmas, though, whether you were serious about coming or not," Marco said. "But... What if you came up a few days after Christmas, before winter term starts?"

"You mean, I really can? I can come and stay in your mansion for a couple of nights?" Jean asked, amazed. 

"Ah, I wouldn't call it a mansion... But yes, of course you can. Do you want to?"

Jean smiled lightly. "Yeah, okay."

And so it was settled. Jean was actually excited to see Marco's home and his hometown.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

"So how is college, Jean?"

Jean had gotten settled into his old room, and then came back downstairs for dinner with his parents. His mother was near the stove, finishing up, while his father read a newspaper at the table.

His mother had asked a shit ton of questions as soon as he walked inside, but his father had mostly communicated with grunts.

"It's fine."

"Fine?" His mother smiled gently. "That's all? How is it living on campus?"

"It's fine," he said again.

"Oh? And your roommate?"

Jean stiffened, and he felt his cheeks heat up. His roommate? His roommate was dorky, adorable, and kind. And his roommate was a male. And they've kissed. Now how do you go about explaining that to a mother?

"He's great..."

"'Great'? You've finally said something other than 'fine'!"

Jean rolled his eyes. He knew his mom was just teasing him, but... It really pissed him off. He couldn't wait to get this over with and just go to Marco's. And then, after that, go back to college. He wouldn't really like the classes very much, of course, but he looked forward to hanging out with Marco, Connie, and even Eren. Yes, Eren, the pretentious, ambitious kid that he hung out with a couple of times and already hated. That's how much he hated being back at home. 

"Dinner is ready!" His mother smiled from the kitchen, and Jean sat at the table that was already set up, staring at the tablecloth and gleaming silverware as if he were staring at his worst enemy.

Suddenly, his plate was placed before him, and he was staring at his favorite meal. His mother's homemade omelette. He'd nearly forgotten the sunny summer mornings when he would wake up and smell the eggs cooking, and know that that day would be omelette day. Or, sometimes he would grumpily, groggily stomp downstairs early on a school morning, only to have his spirits lifted when his mother already had one ready for him.

It's the little moments like that he seemed to forget about his mom, and the fights that stuck in his head after he'd gone.

He remembered Marco's words to him in the park just last week.

"Consider yourself lucky, Jean. Your family loves you."

"Th-thanks..." Jean said to his mom.

Both his mother and father smiled at him, and they all ate their dinner together. Jean knew he would have to cherish this memory, because sooner or later, he would focus back on their arguments.

Later that night, when Jean decided to head to bed, he got a call from Marco while he laid in bed.

"Hey," he said, answering it after a few seconds. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Marco replied warmly. "Just thought I'd check in on you."

Jean smiled lightly as he heard Marco's voice. He hated that he couldn't go even one day without talking to him, but it didn't matter. 

"Thanks, Marco. Yeah, everything's fine here. I haven't gotten into a fight with my parents yet, so I suppose that's something."

"That's really good, Jean! I think they'll really enjoy spending time with you and not arguing."

"Yeah... So how about you?"

"Oh, it was good, actually. My parents weren't home when I first got there, but they came home before dinner! We got to eat together for a while..." Marco trailed off.

"What do you mean, 'for a while'?" Jean asked, suddenly irritated.

"It's okay, Jean, really," Marco said with a nervous laugh, sensing him grow annoyed. "My father had an important call to take, that's all. He's a lawyer, you know, so he can get very busy."

"So did he come back after the call?"

"Well, it was a long call, so it ran past dinner time. Oh! But I did get to tell my mom about college. And about you."

Jean felt his cheeks heat up while he stared at the bland, white ceiling in his room. He still had some glow-in-the-dark stick on stars from when he was in elementary school. Now they were just a sickening reminder of when the most important thing in life was finishing his multiplication homework so he could play outside with the neighbor kids. When the most stressful event he went through was seeing his crush let another boy chase her on the playground. "You told her about me?" He asked, focusing back on the conversation. 

"Well, of course. I had to tell them a little about you, since you're coming over next week. I told her a little about you, that's all." Marco chuckled. "She thought you were my boyfriend at first, but I told her you're straight."

Jean bit his lip. "Yeah..."

"What's that 'yeah' for? You sound disappointed. Did you not want me to say anything about you?"

"That's not it." What could he say? He couldn't admit that he was pretty sure there was something more between them. And, if that were the case, then he wasn't exactly as straight as he's always thought. Why has he never been attracted to a guy before, anyway? Why only now, and why only Marco?

"Then what?" Marco asked, breaking Jean's train of thought. "You've been acting weird lately... Mostly ever since that bowling trip with Ashton."

Jean stiffened as he listened. Was Marco finally catching on?

"Please don't hate me for asking this, but are you sure you only like girls?"

"I..." What should I do? Is this the moment that I should tell him how I feel? "I don't know. I think I like guys. One guy in particular..."

His heart was soaring as he finally admitted it, and yet he was still scared. There was a huge possibility Marco wouldn't share his feelings.

Jean could practically sense Marco grinning through his phone. "Seriously?!"

"Yeah. I mean, it's no big deal, right? So you don't have to act so surprised..."

"I just think it's great! I knew I saw chemistry between you two!"

"H-hang on... Who?"

"Ashton, of course. Isn't that who you like...?"

"What? No! Ashton's just my friend!"

"Oh." Marco laughed, and Jean could hear some rustling on his end of the phone, as though he were changing his position on his bed. "I'm sorry, I guess I misread the signs. Who's the guy, then?"

Jean scowled. Was it really that hard for him to figure out? How many guys did he even hang out with? 

"Marco..."

"Hm? Do you not want to tell me? That's alright," Marco said cheerfully.

"Ugh... This is tiring..."

"What is?"

"This. Let's just forget about it, okay?" Jean turned onto his side, sighing. This hadn't gone the way he'd planned at all. "How's that hometown of yours? You talked about it the whole day before you left."

"It's great!"

Jean knew it. The one way to distract Marco was to bring up something he loved. Then he wouldn't be able to stop talking about it. Not that it mattered. Jean enjoyed hearing him talk. And it really helped to distract Jean from what he nearly admitted.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve when Jean realized he hadn't gotten anything for Marco. His house was all set up for a family gathering, with the tree up and decorated, and presents lying underneath.

"Shit," he mumbled, coming downstairs. "Presents are a thing..."

He was going to Marco's in just three days, and he knew he'd feel bad if he didn't at least get him a snowman-shaped lollypop or something. So he quickly got dressed, grabbed his truck keys, and told his parents he was heading out. A lot of the shops in town were still open, but really crowded. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who forgot to go shopping.

He headed into the first store he saw, which had pretty generic items. Clothing, food, necessary items... But maybe there'd be a sweater that Marco would like?

But alas. There were a lot of fuzzy, comfy sweaters that would look adorable paired with a white dress shirt underneath and black-framed glasses to create a nerdy Marco. Jean actually considered getting him a whole outfit. But Marco was too important to just receive a sweater.

Jean continued along, but at the last second, grabbed a hunter green sweater as a backup gift. And an excuse to make Marco dress like a cute little nerd.

Finally, halfway through the store, Jean grew irritated, and took out his phone, tapping on Marco's name. He was ashamed to admit that Marco was the person he called the most. One of the only people he called at all.

"Jean? What's up?"

"Hey, Marco. I know I don't usually call during the day, but it's an emergency. Are you busy?"

"Oh my god, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm shopping."

Marco let out a breath of relief. "Jesus. I thought something had happened... Give me a minute."

Jean waited, and he heard some rustling and footsteps.

"Okay," Marco said. "I had to leave the room. So, what do you need?"

"What sort of things do you like? I mean, I know the basics. Like your favorite color, and that you like to read, and you really love Asian cuisine, and you're an absolute sucker for classical music."

"Wha-?"

"Please, Marco, I'm not finished. Jeez. Anyway, I know you're a hopeless romantic- I found your Charlotte Brontë novels. And I know you can play the piano. Connie told me so!"

"Okay... Did you do this just to call me out on the things I like?"

"Oh, of course not. I've just realized that I don't know much about you. About the real you," Jean explained.

"I don't know, you seem to know quite a bit about me..."

"Marco."

"Okay, okay. Um... I don't know. What do you want to know specifically?" Marco asked.

"What you want for Christmas..." He grumbled.

Then Marco laughed. "Are you actually thinking about getting me a gift?"

"Well, yeah. It was going to be a surprise, but I don't know what you want." Jean continued walking, holding the sweater under his arm. He passed by the movie and video games section, deciding video games weren't special enough, either. 

"Well why don't you make me something?"

"What? I was thinking I'd just buy something... I'm not really artistic."

"Jean, you're majoring in photography... Isn't that an art form in itself?" Marco chuckled. 

"Well, yeah, but-" Jean frowned. "No, you're right... What do you want, then? Do you want me to draw you a picture of a pretty rainbow pony? Or bake you some cookies?"

"Whatever you want!" Marco said happily, his smile practically leaking through the phone. "I'll like whatever you make for me."

"Well gee, thank you, you've helped so much..." He sighed lightly. He wasn't mad at Marco or anything. Or even annoyed. He liked this playful, sarcastic bantering between them. And he realized he missed his roommate already. "Hey, aren't you going to ask what I want?"

"No," Marco replied smugly. "I already have your gift."

"Jesus," Jean muttered. "You're making me look like a terrible friend."

"Like the type to get a Christmas present the day before Christmas?"

"Yeah... Like that..."

"It's okay," Marco said with a laugh. "Anyway, I should go. My aunt and grandparents ended up coming over and staying for Christmas Eve. So we have a family gathering this year!"

Jean smiled. "That's great, Marco!" He and Marco had originally planned on calling each other Christmas Eve, mostly to keep Marco company. But maybe now he wouldn't need it. 

"Yeah... I'll still be calling you tonight, though."

It was like Marco read his mind. 

"Really? Why?"

"Well, unless you don't want me to... I just thought it'd be nice. We can just text or something," Marco suggested.

"Oh, no, calling is fine. Skype would be better."

"Alright. Skype it is, then!"

They said their goodbyes, and Jean got to work on Marco's gift. He already knew what to do, even if the idea was sappy and dumb and dorky. What else could he do? If you make something for someone, there's a huge possibility the gesture will be sweet yet sappy. 

And, about three hours later, Jean had his supplies scattered all over the kitchen table, and a 25% finished gift. Pictures were everywhere, some cut up and some not even touched yet. 

Jean picked up some of the scraps of paper and attempted to throw them in the trash sitting next to him, but they stuck to his sticky, glue-y fingers.

"What? Damn it..."

He muttered to himself as he attempted to clean up a little. Who knew a little craft would be so messy, difficult, and frustrating? He was messing up straight edges, getting glue all over every surface he saw, and all he had to show for it was a messy result. 

"You're majoring in photography, Jean," he muttered under his breath, mocking Marco's words. "You're totally artistic..." I wonder if he knows just how difficult it is to be artsy? 

"Um... Jean?" Jean's mother came in, wearing her Christmas best, with a nice red blouse and pearls around her neck. "What on earth are you doing? Family will be here any moment!"

"I'm..." Jean carefully picked up one of the pictures, wanting to lie it down precisely without forming any wrinkles or bubbles. "...Making a gift."

His mother stared a while longer, but then smiled lightly. "Oh... For your roommate, huh? Well, do you need any help?"

"I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?" She sat down in the chair next to him. "I did a lot of these back in the day. You know, it's better if you do this." She showed him her method, and it certainly was easier than what he'd been doing. Of course, Jean knew his mother was really crafty. She sewed, scrapbooked, painted... Everything.

Finally he sighed, crossing his arms in defeat. "I just... I want it to look good, you know? He's like my best friend... Will you... help me with it?"

His mother smiled. "Of course I will, Jean. But don't worry... you can say it was all you."

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Jean had barely finished packing when his mother knocked on his bedroom door, telling him someone was here for him. 

"He looks about your age, with dark hair... Said his name was Marco."

"Okay," Jean replied. Christmas had been hectic. And annoying. Jean's relatives had come just before he and his mom finished their collage, and of course had to ask about it. Jean just brushed them off. He actually would have preferred the "how is college?", and "goodness, you've grown! How old are you now?". But all in all, it wasn't  _so_  bad. There were relatives he couldn't stand, who nagged him for everything, but then there were those he didn't mind so much. The cousin who wore cool shirts to gatherings, and who posted cool things on Facebook, but he didn't really talk to other than that. 

Then, the night of Christmas Eve, he Skyped Marco. They were able to gossip about their families. 

_"I still have some relatives here... They didn't want to leave until morning," Jean had complained._

_Marco smiled. His room was dark, but Jean could still slightly make out his features. "I do, too... My aunt stayed."_

_Jean watched as the clock on his bedside table finally turned to 12 a.m. He smiled softly, staring at his screen. "Merry Christmas, Marco."_

_"Oh... It is Christmas now, isn't it?" Marco smiled in return. "Merry Christmas, Jean."_

Jean grabbed his phone and bag, quickly hurrying downstairs. 

Sure enough, Marco was in his living room. He was smiling, his cheeks rosy from the cold, and yet his smile grew bigger when he saw Jean. 

"Hi! Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Jean replied coolly. "Did you drive here? I told you I could've driven to you..."

"Oh, no, it's alright! My family's chauffeur is driving us."

"Jesus Christ... You have a chauffeur?"

"Well, yeah. It used to come in handy when I couldn't drive and would need to be picked up from school or taken to a friend's house or something. My parents often couldn't do it." Marco smiled and gently took Jean's bag from him. "I'll carry this."

"Oh, thanks..."

Then Jean's mother came downstairs. "Have fun, Jean! And do keep your father and I updated on your classes once in a while, alright?"

"Yeah, okay."

She managed to get one final hug in before Jean insisted that he and Marco had to leave. 

"Bye!" Marco called with a smile. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Kirschtein!" 

"Tch... Do you have to do that?" Jean groaned under his breath. 

"I'm just being nice." They walked out to the sleek, black car in front of Jean's house, putting his things in the trunk. 

They sat in the backseat. The car was certainly luxurious. It was very toasty, and the seats were made of comfortable leather. 

Jean took off his jacket, finding that the temperature was then perfect. The man in the driver's seat glanced at Marco in the mirror. "Ready?" He looked as though he were in his fifties, with greying hair and kind eyes. 

Marco looked to Jean, who nodded. "Yup!" He finally said to the driver. The car began to move, pulling out of Jean's driveway and onto the main Street. 

This was really weird. Jean hadn't had someone drive him since he was in high school. And how was he supposed to have a conversation with Marco when that guy was there? 

"I can't wait to take you to the skating rink, and to my favorite café. Do you know how to skate?"

"Ah, no..."

"That's alright. I can teach you." He laughed, and then poked Jean's arm. "Finally something I know how to do that you don't!"

Jean just smiled. In return, Marco frowned. "Hey... What's wrong?"

Jean glanced at the chauffeur once again, and then to Marco.  _I'll just say it quietly into his ear..._

Jean leaned closer to him, touching his shoulder lightly. Marco stared at him, frowning lightly. "Jean, what are you doing..?"

"I'm just trying to whisper something."

"Oh," he laughed. "You should probably make your intentions more clear in the future. People could get the wrong idea."

Jean blushed, but Marco turned his head, ready to listen. 

"Aren't you a little uncomfortable talking with your chauffeur here?"

Marco just smiled, and then moved his lips to Jean's ear. It was a very intimate moment, and it made Jean blush at how close they were. 

"Sorry," he murmured. "I guess I've grown used to it. We can talk like this if it bothers you so much."

"Then don't you think he may get the wrong idea?" Jean asked. 

"No. But even if he did, it wouldn't matter." Marco just shrugged, still keeping his voice low and his face close to Jean's. "Oh, I left your present at my house. It's alright, though. You can open it when we get there."

"Oh, okay. Your gift is in my bag. It was really hard to make."

"You actually did it?" Marco exclaimed, his voice suddenly far louder than it was before. "What'd you make me?"

Jean glared, and Marco laughed nervously. "Oh, right... Sorry," he whispered. "Anyway, what'd you make?"

"Well I can't tell you, genius."

They stayed like that for quite a while, their knees against the seats before them and their heads close as they spoke. Jean really appreciated that Marco offered to talk like this, just to make him feel comfortable. The radio also helped a bit to ensure Jean that their conversation could not be heard. 

Eventually, though, within the two hour trip, Jean nodded off. He wanted to stay up and talk to Marco, but the coziness of the car and being so close to another person made him sleepy.

"Jean... You can lie down if you want to. Here."

Jean felt an arm come around his shoulder, pulling him closer to Marco until his head was against his shoulder. Jean let out a breath, surprised. Surprised, but thankful. 

His shoulder felt strong and sturdy, but also comfortable. 

* * * 

Marco smiled gently as Jean once again fell asleep, but this time against his shoulder. Jean was such a strange, interesting person. And he was so hard to read... Marco had liked Jean for a while, but in more of a 'oh, hey, you're cute and we get along well' way than a 'I want to be your boyfriend forever and ever' way. He'd date him, if the situation ever arised, but he just didn't think it was worth it to pursue him. 

And then Jean revealed that he had a crush on a guy. Marco still had no idea who, and it really bothered him. He always sort of thought, deep down, that if Jean ever fell for a guy, it would be him.

Marco's arm was still around Jean, and his hand rested on his arm. 

Enough of Jean's love life, though... What about his? There were two important guys in his life at the moment- and one persistent, annoying one (Collin). Jean, of course, was one of those important guys. He did spend most of his time with Jean, but during his time at work, he did see Tate a lot. He hadn't dared to tell Jean about this guy at first, though. Jean always got weird and quiet whenever Marco talked about boys and relationships. But one day he couldn't hide it, and Jean came into the café. And Jean, of course, got weird. It even started an argument between the two of them. 

Tate was also openly gay. Marco tended to keep that part of himself hidden. He'd had too many experiences where people would be so nice to him and think he was the greatest friends ever... until they found out about his sexuality. Marco's hand tightened on Jean's shoulder lightly, and he closed his eyes. Jean wasn't like the others. His friends, including Reiner, Bertholdt, Connie, and Armin weren't like that. He was very thankful for them. 

Anyway, as for Tate... Marco had once thought about asking him out. He still thought of it quite often, when he watched Tate take orders or clean up after closing time. But it also wasn't as simple as just choosing A over B. Tate and Jean both had their pros and cons. They both had faults and advantages.

Except, Jean's crush on a guy really changed things. Did that mean he was bi? Why couldn't things just be simple. Why did everyone have to have a label and, if you didn't know that label, it wasn't safe to flirt with them? 

Jean shifted his position slightly, still leaning against Marco. Marco was too excited to sleep. Excited to spend the next few days with Jean and take him around his hometown. Excited because Jean was taking a nap against his shoulder. 

Things were going pretty well. 

Two hours later, Marco couldn't hold on his excitement any longer. He shook Jean's shoulder lightly, waking him up. 

* * *

Jean woke up suddenly when he felt a hand shaking him. He felt so warm...

He opened his eyes, and suddenly remembered what he was sleeping against. Or,  _who_ he was sleeping against. 

Jean's cheeks turned visibly pink when he realized he was leaning against Marco's shoulder, and he quickly sat up. He looked out the window. 

"We're here," Marco said. "In town, at least. We have maybe ten minutes before we get to my house."

"Jeez..." Jean stretched, ruffling his hair. "It's pretty snowy up here."

Marco smiled, and then pointed at a building. "Look! That's our bowling alley. And over there is the store..."

"Wow, a real-life store. We don't have those where I come from."

Marco scowled playfully. "If you don't want my commentary, you can continue to use me as a pillow."

Jean flushed once again, now scowling himself. "Shut up... I was tired..."

So Marco continued to point out things, even the simplest of things, and Jean happily listened. Jean thought it was pretty amazing that Marco still loved his hometown. Most people, after growing up and going to high school, never want to return home ever again.

Finally the car pulled into a driveway. Jean straightened, looking ahead of them to see a house. And he saw one, a great distance down the driveway, in a clearing. It looked huge, even from where they were. He couldn't begin to imagine how big it was once they were right in front of it. 

"It's a castle..." Jean mumbled. 

Marco just smiled. "Don't be ridiculous... It's not even considered a mansion. Just a pretty big house."

"To you, maybe."

Even if the house wasn't a mansion, it looked like it could be. It was two stories, with a perfect front lawn and shrubs, even though it was winter. They were slightly more barren than they would be in the summer, but no less beautiful. 

"Oh, they aren't home," Marco murmured as the car stopped. "I think that's for the best, though. We can settle in without them bothering us."

 _He must mean his parents_ , Jean thought. 

They carried Jean's things in, and Jean was marveling at the house the entire time. The entryway was huge and bright, leading to a big staircase.

"Come on, I'll show you to the guest room. Although we'll probably be hanging out in my room a lot," Marco said with a small laugh. Jean followed him up the stairs quietly, just nodding. 

He showed Jean to his room first, and then a little further down the hall to the guest room. Inside the guest room was a full-sized bed with a flowery pattern, and even a desk and dresser. 

Marco set one of Jean's bags on the bed, and Jean did the same. 

"Do you want to unpack now?" Marco asked him. 

"Nah, it can wait. Why? Do you have something planned already?" 

"Not really. Thought we could catch up. I didn't ask how your Christmas went!"

"Let's do that, then."

Jean left his bags in the guest room, heading for Marco's room. Jean was really jealous. His room was huge, with a huge bed and a huge t.v. and a huge closet. But Jean kept his mouth shut. He'd teased Marco enough for his parents' wealth. 

Jean kicked off his shoes and jumped onto Marco's bed. It was so soft...

Marco just smiled and sat next to him. 

"It's kind of overwhelming," Jean admitted. 

"What is?"

"Your house. Your gigantic room. Everything."

"I'm sorry..." Marco said, propping himself up with his elbow. 

"It isn't your fault." Jean followed his example, using a pillow to make himself comfier. 

"It sort of is... I convinced you to come here. Maybe we should have stayed at your house," Marco said. 

"Ha... Definitely not. Your house seems pretty chill. Has it always been like this?" Jean asked. "Did you used to invite boyfriends over all of the time?"

"Well, yeah... But it's not like we did anything. I knew I was too young, and I didn't feel ready." Marco smiled slightly and blushed. "Until my senior year in high school, that is."

Jean averted his eyes, certain his cheeks were turning pink.  _Marco had tons of guys over. They probably made out on this bed. And, his senior year, they probably had sex on this bed..._

"Jean." Marco grabbed Jean's attention. He'd started thinking about Marco again, in ways he shouldn't. 

"Sorry..."

"I never know what you're thinking... You know that?" Marco tilted his head, observing Jean. 

"I think that's the point of thoughts," Jean mumbled. "They're just for yourself..."

Marco scowled playfully, pushing Jean's shoulder. "Seriously. Tell me what you're thinking. I hate trying to read you, and then being terribly wrong."

"When has that ever happened?"

"Well... The café, for example. That night when we kissed. I thought you wanted to."

"I did," Jean snapped, without thinking. Because it was the truth. 

Marco's freckled cheeks blushed, and he looked dumbstruck. 

"You... What?"

"I did want to. I mean, I obviously did. Otherwise I wouldn't have done it..." Jean said lightly, trailing off. He felt embarrassed now. Why did he ever have to mention that? He'd just made things awkward...

"Jean..."

Jean looked into Marco's eyes, now attempting to understand what he was thinking. He was staring at Jean with what seemed like affection.

Jean looked away again, and sat up on the bed. "I think I'm going to go get your present. I want you to open it now."

"Oh, alright... I'll get yours, too."

Jean left the room, heading for the guest room. Something told him these next few days would be special. Something extraordinary would happen.

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

They agreed to open their gifts at the same time, because they both felt too awkward whenever they were given a gift and stared at as they opened it. 

"Just warning you, I'm terrible at showing my love for gifts. So if I don't look super excited and pleased," Jean said, tearing some tape on the gift, "I swear, I am."

Marco just laughed. "Okay. I believe you."

Marco was the first to get his gift open, and so Jean momentarily paused to watch him. Even though they said they wouldn't do that. He just really wanted to see if Marco would like it, or if the gift really was just dumb. 

But Marco gasped and smiled widely, as if he received the newest iPhone, and not a collage. Jean had printed out all of the pictures he had of him and Marco, or even some just of Marco he'd taken when they were together. He even had a couple of strips of photos they'd taken when they saw a movie one time for Marco's birthday. He still remembered it clearly, and blushed furiously as he saw one of the pictures.

_"Come on, Jean, let's go in the photo booth!" Marco said suddenly, grabbing Jean's arm._

_Jean scowled. "Ugh... Okay, fine..." He pulled out four dollars, inserted it into the machine, and climbed in after Marco. He hadn't been in one of these things since he was fifteen._

_Marco was grinning widely. "Okay, funny face!"_

_Jean couldn't think of a funny face in time, and the picture was just of him scowling._

_"Okay, now just smile this time," Marco instructed. He took this way too seriously._

_They smiled._

_"Alright... Funny face take number two."_

_Marco stuck his tongue out, and then reached his arm around Jean, pinching his cheek._

Well _, Jean thought, fighting the urge to laugh,_  that's one way to force someone to pull a funny face.

_Finally the fourth picture came._

_"Alright... What do we do for this one?" Jean asked him. They had six seconds left._

_"Hm." Marco smirked. "I've got an idea. Think of it as my birthday present."_

_Two seconds left._

_Marco quickly leaned forward, cupping Jean's cheek, and kissed his other cheek. Jean hardly had time to react. All he could think about was if the kiss meant anything. It didn't, of course, but he could dream._

Looking at the picture now, they both looked so happy. Well, Jean looked really embarrassed as well, his cheeks almost red. But happy, nonetheless. 

Jean hardly noticed Marco ramble on about the collage.

"Oh, my God, this is amazing! I didn't know you kept most of these pictures..." Marco blushed suddenly, still smiling happily. "Oh... The movie theatre one, too, huh? That was a fun day..."

Jean just nodded, and continued to open his present. The box was pretty big... And when he opened the box, he saw at least ten different CDs. All were from different bands in the 80s and 90s, ranging from classic rock to punk. And all were of bands he either owned T-shirts from, or had mentioned liking at one point. "Woah... These are all of my favorites... I didn't think you were paying  _that_  much attention..."

"Of course I was," Marco smiled. "I remember you saying a lot of your music got lost when moving, and I know you have a phone to listen to music with, but... there's nothing wrong with CDs, right?"

Jean shook his head, smiling. "I can listen to them in my truck this way."

".There's more, too. Keep going."

They both moved further into their presents. Jean pulled out two more things. One was a camera lens he'd been looking at last month on the internet. And the other was an SD card with several gigabytes of room. These must have costed Marco a lot of money... Fancy camera equipment isn't exactly cheap. 

"Ooh! A sweater!" Marco grinned and held the green sweater up to his chest, his fingers feeling the fabric. "I love it! And I love the collage, too. Thank you so much!"

"Oh, it... It's nothing," Jean said, suddenly embarrassed for getting Marco such terrible gifts when he got Jean expensive ones he'd wanted. "I really love the music. And this lens and SD card... They look so expensive..."

"It was nothing," Marco said happily. "I thought, since I wasn't getting you anything homemade like you were doing for me, I should get you something for your hobby."

"Well, thank you. They're great. Jeez... My gifts are terrible compared to yours... I'm sorry."

"What? But I love your gifts!"

"I got you a sweater, Marco," Jean said dryly. "I thought you'd look really nerdy and adorable in it, but now it just makes me seem like one of those relatives that gets you socks for your birthday or something..."

"Aw." Marco smiled, and then leaned forward on the bed, putting his arms around Jean. He squeezed him tightly. "I like your presents. And I can wear the sweater tomorrow for you, if you'd like. When we go ice skating." He pulled away and winked exaggeratedly. 

"Sounds good to me," Jean replied, chuckling lightly. 

Jean and Marco spent the remaining hours of the day hanging out. Marco wanted to just let Jean relax today before they went out into town. Jean thought Marco would explode from excitement before the next day actually came, though. 

That night, Jean briefly met Marco's parents. Very briefly. His mother came home first, still in her white coat. Her dark hair matched Marco's, and very faint freckles covered her cheeks. They were much less noticeable than Marco's though. And then his father came home, wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase. 

Marco introduced them to Jean, and they seemed genuinely interested for about two minutes. Then they had to deal with work matters, and told them goodnight. 

"They seemed nice," Jean said as they stopped in the hallway. It was getting pretty late, and they knew they'd have to part for the night. 

"Ha... Not really. Thanks for being nice, though." Marco shoved his hands into his jean pockets, looking down at the ground. "They weren't always like this. They were around a lot more when I was younger. But, my first year of high school, they decided I was fine to take care of myself, and focused on their careers."

"That's ridiculous, though... You were still just a teenager. And they were treating you like you'd already moved out," Jean said. 

"Yeah... It sucks, but that's the way it went. So... I guess this is goodnight. It'll be weird not sleeping in the same room, huh?"

"Yeah," Jean admitted. "It really will be."

"Um... If you ever wanna sleep in my room... You can." Marco smiled gently. "Not in a weird way. And you can say no if you want. Just thought I'd offer."

"Where would I sleep?"

"Well, in my bed, with me. On opposite sides, of course. We could even make a pillow wall between us or something. I understand if you aren't comfortable with that," he quickly added. 

But Jean blushed slightly, and looked away. "Actually... I wouldn't mind doing that."

"Really?"

Jean nodded. 

And so that's where Jean ended up sleeping that night, leaving the bed in the guest room untouched. They slept at least a foot or two apart in Marco's bed, and yet Jean felt so relaxed and comfortable next to him. 

* * * 

The next day, they got ready to go out into town, and Marco pulled on his new sweater. It was exactly how Jean had pictured it. Adorable. He smiled lightly, and watched as Marco picked up Jean's collage, and placed it on his bedside table so that it sat up. It really did make Jean happy to see that Marco liked it. Of course, he could just be putting it there to be nice. But either way, Jean was thankful for it. 

* * * 

Jean moved forward on his skates a bit, wobbling but not falling. He looked up to Marco quickly, a smile on his face. "I think I'm getting it!"

Marco grinned. "Good job! Here, I'll lead you. We can go fast!" Marco held out his hand, and Jean took it, his cheeks heating up as their fingers intertwined.

Although Jean had insisted on just staying on the sidelines and letting Marco skate as fast as he wanted, Marco wouldn't have it. He insisted on teaching Jean how to skate. And Jean stupidly agreed. He'd fallen on his ass so many times, and embarrassed both him and Marco... But he thought he was starting to get a hang of it. 

Marco pulled Jean to him lightly and, without being able to properly stop himself, Jean practically ended up in his arms. 

Marco laughed lightly, his freckled cheeks pink from both the cold and his smiling. 

"Sorry. I forgot you can't quite stop yourself yet."

Marco wrapped his arms around Jean's waist lightly, as though to keep him steady. Although they were so close... Jean's hands were placed on Marco's shoulders, and he moved his fingers to feel the fabric of Marco's sweater. The forest green sweater that he worse just for Jean. It went with his tan skin and dark hair wonderfully, and Jean took a moment to admire him.

Jean almost forgot where they were for a moment. No one seemed to even notice them, or care, either. But with the dark skies and white, glowing Christmas lights lining the rink, Jean felt like it was the perfect atmosphere. 

Jean's heart rate increased suddenly as Marco leaned in, pulling Jean closer to him with one of his hands. With the other, he gently cupped Jean's cheek. 

Jean felt so conflicted. Was this finally happening? Should he let it happen?

_What the hell am I thinking? Marco is actually making a move. I can't scare him off like I did last time._

Jean gripped the collar of the green sweater, feeling Marco's breath against his cheek, and leaned closer. Except, when he did, he felt the thin blade of his skate shift, and he suddenly lost his balance. He foot slid out from under him, and he fell to the hard ground.  

He blushed furiously, now sitting on his butt on the ice.

Marco couldn't help but burst out in laughter. He laughed for a solid two minutes while Jean sat there, feeling humiliated, unsure if he could get up without falling back down. 

 _Oh, so_ now _people notice us..._

"I-I'm sorry," Marco managed to say in between laughter. "It's just-it's really funny! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grunted, as Marco finally helped him up, his cheeks burning from embarrassment. 

"So," Marco said, now being the embarrassed one. "Do you... Want to head to that party now? We don't have to hang out with my friends very much. We can just drink and have fun."

"Oh, sure..."

Marco frowned lightly. "I need a yes or a no... And be honest. I know you don't know them very well."

"Then yes. I really don't mind. I just like spending time with you."

Marco smiled widely. Then they both made it to the edge of the rink, and sat down to take off their skates. Jean was a little nervous, though. He had a feeling he and Marco would eventually continue where they left off. But when? 

What if he was just interpreting the signals wrong? What if it was like that night in the café, except Marco was the one who didn't actually want to kiss his friend?

After that, they started to head to Marco's friend's house. It didn't take very long at all. 

The house was easy to pick out among the others on the street. Nearly all the lights were on, and music was playing loudly. It seemed exactly like one of Connie's parties. 

Marco opened the door, and suddenly they were in a loud wave of people, none of whom Jean recognized. They took off their winter clothing and hung them in the entry way before stepping into the living room. They headed for the drinks immediately, knowing they would loosen up after a few. 

"Don't drink too much tonight, alright?" He warned Marco. "We don't want you puking in the gutter again."

Marco laughed lightly. "Don't worry... I know my limits."

"Hey! Marco!"

They both turned their heads to see a girl their age, tall and thin with dark brown hair cut just past her chin. 

Marco smiled. "Oh, hey Paige. We don't plan on staying too long..."

"Really? That's a shame. I've missed seeing you around since you moved away," Paige said, placing a hand on her hip casually. "How've you been?"

"Oh, I've been really well! I love Portland," Marco replied. 

Paige smiled. "I'm glad. You know, I think Henry will really want to see how you've been. He's just in the living room!"

And so they were dragged off. It seemed that everyone knew Marco. And everyone loved Marco. It almost made Jean a little jealous. He'd only known Marco for four months now... These people grew up with him. They had a history with him. 

Jean listened to them all talk for a while, before escaping back to the kitchen, where some people talked and roamed. He didn't know anyone, but he was thankful for the alcohol. It really helped him to not be too nervous around everyone. He even started a random conversation with a guy while he was there. 

"I came here with a girl," the guy sighed. "But she isn't even hanging out with me."

Jean took a drink from his beer. "Yeah, I feel ya..."

"Oh? You came with a girl, too?"

"Yeah." Then he pursed his lips. "Well, no, not exactly..."

"Come with a group of people?"

"No, just one. But he-"

"He?" The guy frowned in dig use, suddenly giving Jean a quick glance from head to toe. "What are you, a homo?"

Jean felt his cheeks get red with embarrassment. But also with anger. But he did the first thing that came to mind. "N-no... I meant 'she'... My mistake..."

Luckily, the guy was tipsy, and accepted Jean's mistake. 

But after that, Jean felt guilty. 

 _Oh, my God,_  he thought.  _I like Marco. I like him a lot. That means I'm gay._

Then he thought a moment later:

_No... I think bisexual works better. Right? But never mind that. I like Marco._

He knew it all along. But now he was finally coming to terms with it. 

About a half an hour later, Marco found Jean. He touched his arm lightly. 

"Hey, Jean... I told them I wasn't feeling well enough to go home, and they said we could stay in the guest room. Let's go up now."

"Okay... Are you actually not feeling well?"

"I guess I made that part up... But to tell the truth, I don't want to risk going home and having my parents or anyone else seeing that we're drunk." 

"Good idea."

They went upstairs quickly, holding on to the walls and each other for support, so that no one would have the chance to start a conversation with Marco. 

They opened the door to the guest room. 

_This is it._

Marco turned on the light. Inside was a decent sized bed, but it took up most of the room. He shut the door behind them, and locked it. 

"In case any drunk people try to look for a room to make out or throw up in," Marco explained with a laugh, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol he'd consumed. 

_I can kiss him now._

They wasted no time. Jean pulled Marco closer by his shoulders, and quickly pressed his lips against his. 

It was a simple kiss, and yet, just like the one in the café, it was incredible. Marco was cornered against the door, and the surprise of the kiss had him leaning against it for support. 

They pulled away after a moment, and Marco pulled Jean closer by the waist. Their hearts felt like they were going a thousand beats per second. 

"Are we really doing this?" Marco asked as Jean leaned in for another kiss, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

"What's wrong with kissing?"

"You're drunk, Jean..."

"Yeah, well, so are you!"

"I'm not, though." Marco turned his face away, and Jean couldn't reach him since he was so tall. "I mean, I'm just a little tipsy." But his flushed cheeks gave away the truth. 

"You're such a liar. Shut up and kiss me."

"Sassy..." Marco mumbled. Then he suddenly laughed. "Hey... Can I tell you a secret?" He cupped Jean's cheeks, squishing them lightly. Then, in a whisper: "You're totally right. I am drunk."

Jean grabbed Marco by his sweater collar, the adorable green sweater that made him look so nerdy, and pulled him down a couple of inches to meet his level. He smiled widely. "I knew it. I knew you were. We're going to kiss, alright?"

"Okay!"

Marco was the one to kiss first that time. But all Jean could think about was how happy he was that this was finally happening. 

_I like you, Marco. I really, really like you._


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Jean cringed lightly as he heard loud, obnoxious noises from downstairs. His head ached terribly. And, after a few seconds, he easily realized why. He'd always been good at tolerating his alcohol, and his hangovers the next morning, but he still got headaches once in a while. 

Jean shifted slightly, but found he didn't have much space to move. He opened his eyes, his vision blurry, and all he could see was the warm, tanned skin of Marco. It was his shoulder, broad and muscular, splattered with gentle freckles. Jean stiffened, and took a moment to figure out how close he was to Marco. His stomach was pressed against Marco's back, his arm resting around his waist, under Marco's arm. He attempted to move his legs, but found that they were tangled with the freckled boy's legs as well.

 _Jesus_ , he thought,  _did I really want to be that close to Marco last night? It seems that I clung onto him and haven't moved since._

But was this really a bad thing? It felt so nice to be close to Marco like this, the touch of his soft, bare skin, and his intoxicating scent... Jean closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Marco, right where his shoulder and neck met. 

Marco stretched lightly, his arms tightening over Jean's. Knowing hungover Marco, he would probably be asleep for another hour or two. Jean wondered if Marco even knew where he was sleeping, and with who. 

Finally, Jean decided, as much as he liked cuddling with Marco, he should get up and get some coffee to make himself feel better. He knew he saw a small coffee shop just a couple of minutes away from Marco's friend's house, so he decided to get them both something to drink. He squeezed Marco gently and then twisted his way away from him, tucking him in after so he wouldn't notice his disappearance. Then he noticed Marco's phone on the bedside table, the screen lighting up. He didn't mean to peek... But the name was right there. Marco had at least five texts from Tate, all of them asking where Marco was and if he was okay. Jean felt jealous, but then smiled as he stared at Marco, affection overwhelming him.  _Sorry, Tate. He's mine now._

When Jean went downstairs, people were starting to clean up after the party. Several people were still passed out, though. Some people from the night before said hi to Jean, even Paige, and Jean told them he'd be back in a bit, and that Marco was still sleeping. 

As Jean walked, he continued to think about what the future held for him and Marco. There were still so many obstacles they would have to overcome. But they would overcome them together.

Jean ordered two coffees from the nearby coffee shop, being sure to get every detail right on Marco's. He was pretty sure he knew what Marco liked, as they'd gotten coffee together quite often, but there was also a chance he'd forget a certain something. And Jean wanted it to be perfect. For the first time in his life, he felt like a lovesick teenager, getting butterflies in his stomach at the thought of his crush, and dreaming for every little detail to be perfect. 

"Thanks," Jean smiled as he received the coffees. He returned to the cold streets, heading back in the direction he came. He made sure to memorize Marco's friend's house, so that he wouldn't end up getting lost. As he walked, he noticed that some of the snow from yesterday had melted overnight, and it obviously hadn't snowed since yesterday. Since he and Marco went ice skating and almost kissed. Since he and Marco  _did_  kiss. 

Now that it was the next morning, Jean was remembering more and more of what happened at the party, with the both of them alone and buzzed from the alcohol. They kissed several times, each kiss growing more passionate. Jean remembered feeling an intense desire for Marco, and just wanting to be closer to him. 

Nothing serious happened between them, of course, besides kissing. They both respected each other too much, even when drunk, to rush things. Instead they climbed into bed together and fell asleep. 

Jean wasn't exactly sure if they fell asleep cuddling, or if it happened while they were already asleep, but either way the thought made him blush. Marco was just so cute... He looked so calm and innocent while sleeping, and clinging onto Jean's arm. 

He was thankful that the coffees were still hot when he returned to the house. He took a moment before going upstairs, taking a deep breath. Would Marco still be asleep? Or would he be awake, and wondering where Jean went?

Jean picked up a sharpie from the kitchen table on the way to the stairs, and scribbled a heart on the side of Marco's cup. Maybe, if he messed up on his words and grew too shy to say anything, this would speak for him. Besides... actions speak louder than words, right?

Up the stairs he went, passing by some people the night before once again, saying hello. He opened the guest room door, and silently shutting it behind him. 

Marco was already awake, but just sitting up in bed. It looked like he only woke up five minutes before, at the most. 

"Jean." His eyes widened. "Oh, God, I thought you'd left without me..."

"Why would I-"

"Listen, I am so sorry about last night. It was all just some misunderstanding, right? I mean, we were really drunk."

Marco's words hit Jean like a bullet to his heart. He didn't know what to say. All he knew was that he had to tell Marco it wasn't a misunderstanding, and he really really liked him. 

"Besides," Marco continued before Jean could regain his voice, "you have that guy you like. And I have Tate... I told him I'd give him a chance and date him. He isn't all that bad, you know."

If his previous words were like a bullet, then these ones felt like they were fired from a cannon, making Jean's limbs feel week. Making his stomach heavy and his body numb. All we could do was stare at the ground with a straight face, nod dumbly, and try not to let his feelings get the best of him. The last thing he needed to do was scream or cry. 

"Do you forgive me?" Marco spoke up again, frowning lightly. "For kissing you?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Of course. I knew it was just a joke," Jean said with a nervous, forced laugh. He made himself walk forward and hold out Marco's coffee. "I got you this..."

His eyes lit up and he took the coffee from Jean's hand. "Oh, thank you so much!" Then he took a sip. "It's exactly the way I like it. You remembered..."

Jean just shrugged. "Yeah... Of course I did." He felt like such an idiot. Of course he would imagine things would go perfectly, so that he would be disappointed when they didn't. 

"Oh, look at this," Marco suddenly spoke up. He was pointing to the sharpie heart. His lips pulled up into a smirk. "I think someone at the coffee shop had a crush on you. Weird... They didn't leave a name or number..."

Jean felt his cheeks heat up, and he attempted to hide them by taking a drink of his coffee. "Oh, weird... I didn't even notice."

Marco was so relieved and happy that Jean didn't want to say anything or complain about the kiss. He didn't say anything all day. Eventually his silence was a little too much. But, despite that, Marco refused to bring it up, simply happy that this accidental kiss didn't go how the last one did. 

That night, they stopped before Marco's room once more, and Marco smiled, his freckled cheeks rosy. He seemed to stare at Jean with some sort of affection in his eyes, but Jean figured he was just imagining it. Seeing a crush that wasn't there. He had to just be imagining it. 

"You wanna sleep in my bed again?" Marco asked, continuing into his room. But Jean didn't follow, instead staying in the hallway. When Marco realized, he turned on his heel, frowning. "Jean?"

Jean knew he shouldn't. Just because he liked Marco, it didn't mean he could continue on like this, when Marco's intentions didn't match his own. It wouldn't be fair. 

"I think I'm just gonna sleep in my bed tonight," Jean said coldly. "I'm tired, and last time you hogged the blankets."

It was a lie, for the most part. He was tired, but Marco wasn't a bed hog. Jean enjoyed sleeping in his bed with him. He felt safe, and warm, and loved. 

Marco just smiled gently. If he was hurt, he didn't show it. "Okay, I understand. Goodnight, Jean."

Marco took Jean's hand in his own and squeezed it for a moment before going back to his room. 

Jean barely managed to utter a "good night" in return before Marco shut his door. 

Jean just wasn't sure what to do. He still wanted to talk to Marco, and get answers. So, instead of talking to his face like a man, he decided to get ready for bed and just text him instead. 

_So what's the deal with you and Tate._

Jean sat his phone on his stomach and waited for a reply. The bed he was in now was cold and unfamiliar. He debated on going to Marco's room now, but he also didn't want Marco to smile and say something stupid like "Did you get lonely?". He didn't want to seem like a child who easily changed his mind. 

 _I just agreed to go on a date with him_ , Marco texted.  _To give him a chance._

_So you two are dating?_

_I wouldn't say that,_ Marco texted back.  _If you wanted to talk, we could have done it in the hall. Or in my room. Or in your room._

 _I'm already in bed. So if you're sort-of dating him, then why are we doing this?_ Jean asked. He felt like he'd sort of insulted Marco there. 

 _Doing what?_ Marco asked. 

_Holding hands. Sleeping in the same bed.  Almost kissing. And drunk kissing._

It took a while for Marco to reply. Perhaps he was thinking of the right way to put it. But, when he did reply, it wasn't an answer like Jean expected. 

_I hate talking over texts._

And suddenly the door to the guest room opened, and Marco was coming towards his bed, phone in hand. He looked determined, and it actually frightened Jean. 

"M-Marco, what're you doing?" Jean asked. 

Without answering, Marco lifted up Jean's bed covers and climbed underneath. Then he turned towards Jean, lying on his side. 

"Marco!" 

"It's so hard to understand you through your texts. You always sound mad. Are you mad?"

"I, um... No... I guess I'm not." Jean frowned as he stared at Marco. They didn't fit very well on this bed, since it was smaller than the one in Marco's room, but that didn't stop the freckled boy. 

"So," Marco said, "I do this because I like you, Jean."

Jean stiffened. He wasn't sure what was happening anymore. Just a few minutes ago, Marco liked Tate...

"You're my best friend."

Oh. He likes him as a best friend. 

"And, I don't know... I'm just used to being really close to my friends. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable," Marco said, frowning lightly. 

Jean frowned as well, and then sighed. "It's okay. I'm not really used to being this close to guys, but I guess I should get used to it."

Marco smiled. But he didn't talk. And then he eventually rested his head on one of the pillows, as though he had no intention to ever leave and return to his own room. 

Jean shifted lightly under the covers, feeling embarrassed from how close Marco was. So he'd sort of gotten his way, after all. He'd wanted to change his mind and stay the night with Marco, and here they were. Except Marco was the one to man up and do something to keep them from drifting apart. 

Eventually, Marco fell asleep, still facing Jean. Their bodies were touching, but not because they wanted to be touching. Only because they had to on the small bed. The freckled boy was so close to him, and yet he felt so far away. 

* * * 

Jean lit up a cigarette as he laid on his bed, and took deep, long drags. It was a little weird for him to be smoking yet another cigarette this month, but he needed it. 

He and Marco were back at the University, but they hadn't quite patched things up since the night they slept in the same bed together. Marco had gone on a date with Tate, and actually enjoyed himself. 

The freckled boy was very torn now on who he liked, but Jean didn't know that. He thought Marco was head-over-heels for Tate already. 

On the other side of the room, Marco sat on his bed. But, instead of a smile on his face, he watched Jean with a frown. Then went back to typing on his laptop. Then frowned at Jean again.

"Do you have to do that in here?" Marco suddenly asked quietly. 

Jean ignored him for a moment, and blew out smoke. "...Yes."

Marco stared at Jean in disbelief. Finally he shut his laptop forcefully and stood up, opening up his dresser.

"What are you doing?" Jean asked. 

"I'm going out..." Marco replied softly, zipping up his jacket. He searched for a scarf within his dresser. 

"Where? It's nine o'clock," Jean said, now frowning himself. "And it's Tuesday."

"I don't care if you smoke, Jean, I've made that clear... But, Jesus... You don't have to do it in here. Maybe open a window or something," Marco snapped.

"That's why you're leaving?" He crossed his arms. "Because a window isn't open?"

"I'm leaving because you're being mean... You've been like this all week, Jean, and you refuse to talk about it."

Jean opened his mouth to protest, but Marco continued before he could.

"If you decide to actually tell me what's bothering you, I'll be-"

"With Tate?" Jean snapped. 

Marco's eyes lit up for a moment, as if wondering if Tate had anything to do with Jean's behavior. But Marco assumed it had to be something else; Jean wouldn't get this angry about someone like Tate. They'd already worked that problem out.

"No," Marco said. "I'm just going upstairs to stay with Bertholdt and Reiner."

"Fine. But don't expect me to stop smoking around here or anything. Sometimes I come back from a hard day of classes and I just want to smoke."

Marco rolled his eyes lightly. "You aren't even allowed to smoke in the dorms, Jean. You can literally just walk outside."

And with that, Marco shut the door behind him, and Jean was left alone. 

All Jean could think of was how Marco could do that. Why did he have to throw a fit and leave? Why? But... The more Jean thought of it, the more he felt guilty. 

_I guess he was right, in some ways... I can smoke outside. I know he hates this habit of mine. And he's right. I've been in a bad mood ever since the party at his friend's house. I should tell him I'm sorry._

Jean shook his head after a moment, putting out his cigarette. It was too soon to say he was sorry and admit he was wrong. He knew it was childish, but he just wished Marco would figure out himself why Jean was so upset. Was it really that hard to figure out? 

Jean just continued with his homework. Luckily, he didn't have that much left. It was that time again, where professors would just ease the students into the amount of work they would soon receive every day.

Soon, however, his mind wandered back to Marco. Of course. He noticed that he hadn't grabbed his laptop, and wondered if he'd be able to finish any homework he had. 

_I do feel bad... Should I bring it to him?_

Jean ultimately decided against it, and instead got ready for bed. He'd need all the sleep he could get in order to survive classes the next day.

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take the time to thank everyone who has read this far! I know my writing can be sloppy, and unorganized, and sometimes just words with no meaning... But, according to my readers, it can also be rather enjoyable. So thank you, and I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic! :)

Marco must have came into their dorm early in the morning, when Jean was asleep, because his things for class were gone and he never showed up. 

It wasn't until after classes that day that Jean finally had to head to Reiner and Bertholdt's room. He guessed Marco was still staying with them. 

He knocked on their dorm door, and tall, gentle Bertholdt answered. He smiled widely. "Oh, Jean. Are you looking for Marco?"

"Yeah. Is he here?" Jean asked. 

"I'm sorry, but he isn't... He left about an hour ago," Bertholdt said. "He seemed pretty upset... Did you two get into a fight?"

"Kind of, yeah. But I'd really like to patch things up with him."

"He left to go to the music room... But I don't know if he's still there. If you'd like, either Reiner or I can send you a text if Marco comes back here."

But Jean was already mapping out where the music room was in his mind. "That'd be great. I'm going to check the music room, though. Thanks, Bertholdt!"

He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, leaving Bert standing in the doorway alone. Just before Jean started descending the stairs, he heard Reiner say, "Hey Bert, who was that?"

Jean felt bad for not saying hi to Reiner while he was there, but he also didn't have time. 

He'd never been to the music room before. It was on the east side of campus, also close to the auditorium where they put on plays and concerts. Jean had only known about Marco going to the music room a few times. He went there after class hours, when the band room was open for anyone to use, to play the piano. 

When he got to the music room (it was actually more of a music building, with multiple classrooms to use), he listened for piano playing. There was a violinist playing along with a flutist, creating a nice, heartwarming melody. But Jean trekked on. And finally, he heard it. The soft playing of a piano. He peered into the classroom window, and sure enough, there was Marco, sitting on the piano bench. His long, slender fingers pressed down on the piano keys, lingering longer on some notes than others. He didn't seem to be playing anything specific at the moment; just frowning down at the black and white keys. 

Jean opened the door quietly and shut it behind him. Marco's head snapped up from the piano as he heard the door shut, and his expression suddenly changed. Jean couldn't tell if he was happy to see him, or still angry...

"Marco... I was worried about you all day. You could have told me you didn't plan on returning at all," Jean said, walking closer. He cautiously sat down on the bench next to him. 

"You could have texted me. Or even came to find me," Marco said. 

"Well I'm here, aren't I?"

Marco sighed and glanced away. "Yeah... I guess you are."

"Also, I thought you'd want your space..."

Marco just shrugged, and finally met Jean's eyes. "I guess I should apologize first. I know you won't..."

Jean ignored him. Mostly because he knew Marco was right.  

"I'm really sorry I got angry at you and left. I shouldn't be mad at you not wanting to share your thoughts with me. I know you like to keep to yourself," Marco said. 

His apology was so sincere... Even though what Jean did, by acting like such an ass, was so much worse. 

" _I'm_  sorry," Jean said. "I've been acting terribly lately. And... I won't smoke in the room again. Ever. I'll go outside from now on."

Marco smiled gently, his eyes cast to the ground. "I forgive you. Does this mean you're going to tell me what's been bothering you?"

Jean frowned lightly. "Ah... Actually..."

Then Marco just shook his head, and let out a small laugh. "No? Well, alright. I guess it's none of my business, anyway. But if you ever want someone to talk to, I'll always listen."

"Thanks, Marco." Jean looked down at the piano. "Are you going to play something for me?"

"Oh, I guess I could... What would you like to hear?"

"Anything. Why don't you play me your favorite song?" Jean suggested. 

It took Marco a moment, but finally he smiled lightly and placed his fingers on the keys. But then he glanced at Jean, his cheeks turning pink. 

"I don't like being watched while I play..." He mumbled. 

Jean rolled his eyes playfully and turned around on the bench, his shoulder leaning against Marco's slightly. "Better?"

"Yeah." Marco smiled widely. "Thanks."

Jean closed his eyes, and waited. Finally the first note was played, clean and crisp, filling the once silent room. And many notes followed after, somber yet beautiful. 

He knew Marco didn't learn to play the piano by choice. His parents made him take lessons as a child. Even now playing the piano wasn't his favorite thing to do. Jean was pretty sure he only did it because the songs were actually quite calming.

Marco broke concentration for a moment, and his playing slowed. "Jean?"

"Hm?" 

"Before we go back to the dorm and pretend none of this happened, I just want to let you know that I may be around Tate a lot more from now on. So please be nice to him, okay?"

Although he wasn't looking, Jean could tell that Marco was pulling one of his begging puppy faces. Jean didn't even think he did it on purpose. He just always seemed so sad when asking something like that, and it was nearly impossible to resist. 

"Yeah... I'll try," he replied sincerely. 

"Thank you."

Marco finished playing shortly, and they started to head back to their dorm room. Jean was really happy to have Marco back with him, even if it meant Tate was back in the picture as well. Besides, Tate was temporary. Surely Marco wouldn't fall in love with that boy? He was so young, and outgoing... Kind of annoying as well. 

And, the more Jean thought about it, the more he realized why Marco liked Tate. They were a lot alike, and so different from Jean. They were both outgoing and friendly, loving to go to parties and any social events. But Marco was way better. Marco was kind and sweet, and he made friends with anyone. When he became friends with someone shy, he adapted to make that person feel more comfortable. When he befriended someone crazier than he was, he would also do his best to match. He always put others before he put himself. Tate didn't deserve someone as amazing as Marco. 

 _But... Neither do I_ , Jean thought after a moment. 

* * * 

Jean entered Marco's café, seeing Reiner and Bertholdt already sitting at the bar stools. As soon as he took a seat, a glass of Pepsi was in front of him. Marco smiled cheerfully from behind the counter, leaning his elbows against the top. 

Jean chuckled, taking a straw from a nearby dispenser. "Am I really that predictable?"

"You sort of are," Marco shrugged. "When you told me you were coming for lunch, I knew you'd want a Pepsi. Was I right?"

"You were." Jean smiled lightly. "Thanks."

"No problem." 

"So how was your Christmas, Jean?" Reiner asked next to him. 

Jean noticed that Reiner didn't seem to be blushing, or showing off in any way. He assumed Krista wasn't working that day. 

"It was pretty good," Jean replied. "How was yours?"

"Fun, actually. I actually get to drink with my family now that I'm of age!" Reiner grinned. "Before I would just have to hide it..."

Jean laughed. "Yeah... I guess I'll get to experience that next year."

Tate came out from the kitchens, and stood next to Marco. 

"Hey, Jean. Been a while."

Jean smiled. "Yeah." He never knew what to say to Tate. He did his best to be nice and keep a conversation going, but sometimes it didn't work. 

Tate grabbed Marco's shoulder, catching his attention, and kissed him right on the lips. It was a brief, casual kiss, and it only lasted a couple of seconds, but it made everyone uncomfortable. For Jean, it was more than uncomfortable. It was infuriating. 

His eyes fell to the counter, and he stirred his drink with his straw absentmindedly. 

Finally Tate pulled away, his eyes lingering on Marco's face. "I'll see you in a bit."

Marco smiled, his cheeks red. He was clearly embarrassed, and probably not very happy about showing such affection directly in front of his friends. "See you."

Tate finished grabbing his things, said goodbye to the three boys sitting at the counter, and left. 

Marco stood there awkwardly. Jean continued to stare at the counter as though it were his worst enemy. Reiner was the first one to actually speak. 

"Well that was... Something. You pick great boyfriends, Marco."

"Shut up..." Marco muttered, although it was almost impossible for him to sound mean. "He's not so bad. Better than Collin was, right?"

"True," Reiner replied. 

Jean could feel Marco's eyes on him, so he looked up. Marco smiled gently at him, as if to apologize. 

"That was the first time he's done that," Marco admitted. "I'm just as surprised as you guys are."

"Haven't you guys only been on like, two dates?" Reiner asked. 

"Yeah," Marco replied, still looking frazzled. Then he seemed to focus. "Anyway, I should get back to work... We're one man short now until Tate comes back from lunch. See you guys in a bit."

Marco went off to check on the people in the café. By now, some of them were probably wondering where the service was. 

"You alright, Jean?" Bertholdt asked gently. 

Jean glanced up at him, furrowing his brow lightly. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, because..." Bertholdt shifted slightly. "Because you and Marco..."

"What about us?" Jean scowled. 

Finally Reiner, the bolder of the two, simply spat out the words instead of beating around the bush. "You like Marco, yeah? And, you don't need to bother answering, because we know you do."

"I do not!" Jean protested. His cheeks, however, conveyed his true answer. 

"We totally thought you two were going to hook up over Christmas break," he continued. "What happened? Tate get to him before you did?"

"I-I don't..." He attempted to protest again, but finally sighed and sipped from his drink. "Well, I guess he did..."

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Bertholdt suggested. "I know it seems hard, but it's Marco... He can receive a confession from anyone and still be their friend."

"Well, I've tried," Jean explained. "He may have brains, but he's sort of oblivious. He almost figured it out one day, but instead he assumed I had a crush on Ashton."

"Well tell him or don't tell him, I don't care," Reiner said. "But I'd much rather see him with you than with Tate. Marco just seems really happy around you. And he talks about you all of the time."

"He does?" Jean glanced around them, making sure Marco was still far away, and not close enough to overhear their conversation. 

"Of course. You're his best friend. And you could be more than his best friend." Reiner shrugged, typing into his phone. "You just have to make it happen. Simple as that."

 _Yeah... Easier said than done_ , Jean thought to himself. 

"We could tell him for you," Bert suggested. "Or hint it, maybe. Ask if he likes you."

"Yeah, no offense, Bertholdt, but I think only middle schoolers do things like that before asking their crush to homecoming."

Jean just wanted this whole thing to be simple. He just wanted Marco to be happy with the person he was with (preferably if Jean were that person) and then not make things more complicated than need be. He didn't want to have to worry over whether Marco liked him back, or fret over the fact that, after spending his entire life liking girls, realizing he'd fallen for a guy. So what? He liked Marco. He was attracted to him. And he was willing to watch helplessly as Marco dated someone else, if that would made him happy. 

Jean stayed a while longer, chatting with Marco, Reiner, and Bertholdt. After a while, however, he decided he should head back to his dorm room to finish the assigned reading for his writing class. 

"Jean..."

Jean picked up his jacket, but turned back to the counter. Marco was staring after him, a light frown on his face. He looked so conflicted and so troubled, but Jean wasn't sure why.

"Leaving already?"

"Just for a bit. I can come back after your shift and pick you up, if you'd like," Jean offered. 

"I don't know... I might walk home with..."

"With Tate," Jean assumed. "You don't have to be scared to say his name around me or anything. I may not like the guy, but I'm still acting nice, remember?"

Marco nodded. "Right. I'll text you, then, as soon as I figure it out."

"Alright."

Jean smiled once more at Marco before finally leaving, heading for his truck. 

 _Marco_ , he thought,  _why do things have to be so complicated?_


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Jean scrolled through Facebook peacefully, looking at his friends' and family's posts. Ashton posted some pictures from a party, and Jean liked them. He missed Ashton already. 

A small fit of giggles interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced up from his phone. Tate was here, because for some reason Marco thought it was possible to have guests over in a room that small. They were laying on Marco's bed, being romantic and doing couple's lovey-dovey crap. Like kissing and tickling and more kissing. It seemed that they never just  _talked_. Sometimes Marco spoke up, but the conversation soon ended shortly, and they would just kiss again. Jean wouldn't help but think that wasn't particularly healthy for their relationship. 

Now Tate was kissing Marco's neck, and apparently he'd found a ticklish spot. 

_Ugh... Seriously? They do know I'm here, right?_

Jean rolled his eyes lightly, and then cleared his throat. Tate pretended not to notice, but Marco sat up, blushing lightly. 

"Sorry, Jean... I know this isn't exactly ideal for you."

"You know, I'd be fine with leaving, if that's what you want. Just ask," he said. Although he actually wasn't fine with leaving at all. He didn't want to think of the things Tate would do to Marco if they were left alone. 

"No, no, it's fine," Marco replied. "We can't just kick you out of your own room."

It was a bit of a tough situation. They couldn't go back to Tate's place, because he still lived with his parents. They couldn't do anything here when Jean was also there. So they had to get used to only being alone once in a while. 

"I'm gonna use the bathroom," Tate suddenly said, pressing his lips against Marco's once more. "Be back soon."

"Okay," Marco smiled. 

He watched Tate leave until the door was shut, and then his eyes landed on Jean. "We're thinking about going to the play tonight. You want to come? I already bought you a ticket, just in case."

"No... That's alright, Marco. I can pay you back for the ticket."

"Are you sure?" He propped himself up onto his elbow. "It's some musical.  _Guys and Dolls_ , I think. It's supposed to be good."

"Well as much as I love musicals, and love being a third wheel, I'm gonna have to say no." Jean added a smile when he was finished, just so his words didn't sound too offensive.

"You won't be a third wheel!" He sat up even further. "If there had to be a third wheel, I think it'd be Tate."

"What? But he's your boyfriend."

"Yeah, my boyfriend of a couple of weeks. You're my friend of several months."

Jean pursed his lips, lowering his phone to his lap. "You don't have to do that..."

Marco just laughed. "I want to, dummy."

"Did... Did you just call me a dummy?" Jean smirked lightly, a laugh escaping his lips. 

Marco's cheeks grew pink, and he looked down. "Maybe... It just sort of happened, okay?" He stood up from his bed and opened one of his drawers. "So, you'll go, right?"

"I don't know. Don't you want to make it a date night with just the two of you?" Jean asked. 

"I guess that would be nice... But I still want you to come with us."

"...Alright. Fine."

"Great!" Marco grinned and pulled out some clothes. "It starts at seven, so be ready to leave before then."

"Okay."

He wasn't sure why he agreed. Mostly because he couldn't bear to say no to Marco when he pleaded and insisted like that. But he guessed the play wouldn't be too bad. It was something fun to do. 

* * *

"Are you ready?"

Marco stood at the door. He looked great. He had on a blue button-up shirt with a blazer, and nice-fitting black pants. 

Jean tugged at his own clothing, similar to Marco's. He hated that these plays were so formal. But this was opening night. Any other night, people could probably get away with wearing jeans if they wanted. 

"Yeah, I am. So Tate is meeting us there?" Jean asked. He made sure his phone and keys were in his pocket before leaving the dorm with Marco. 

"That's right."

They chatted lightly as they walked to the auditorium. It was chilly, and they had to bring along coats to go over their thin blazers. 

"So, do we know anyone in this play?" Jean asked. 

"Hm... In it, probably not. But I know Armin helped with a lot of the backstage work. He chose theatre as one of his electives."

"Oh, cool. Maybe we'll see him after the show."

"Maybe! We haven't seen him in a while. We should hang out with them sometime," Marco suggested. 

"Yeah..." Jean remembered hanging out with Armin, Eren, and Mikasa. He remembered Eren's hickies, and how angry his sister was. Ah, his sister... She's still one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. 

 _One of the most beautiful_ girls _I've ever seen. Not the most beautiful person._

Jean glanced at Marco, a smile crossing his lips. Marco's cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but he could still clearly see his tan skin and perfectly freckled cheeks. 

_I think he's the most beautiful person I've ever seen._

Eventually they got to the auditorium and took their seats. Tate wasn't there yet. 

"He's late for things a lot," Marco just said with a shrug and a laugh. "I'm sure he'll make it in time before the doors close, though."

They grew silent for a moment, but then began to talk again. They both had things to complain about when it came to their classes, so they always had things to talk about. 

"Hang on, you only got an 80% on that paper? But I helped you, and we did great!" Marco said. 

"I know, right? It was a really good paper. That professor is just an ass."

"Huh. I'll be sure not to take any classes of his next term."

They both grew quiet suddenly when the lights dimmed, indicating the start of the play. 

Jean glanced at Marco. Marco was glancing at Tate's empty seat. 

Marco looked back to Jean and smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. "It's okay," he whispered. "His loss, right?"

"Marco..."

Jean put his hand on Marco's arm lightly, just above his wrist, and squeezed. The curtain opened on stage, but neither of them turned their heads. 

When Jean pulled his hand away, Marco grabbed it with his own, entwining their fingers together. Jean felt himself blush, and grew thankful that is was dark. 

Marco leaned towards Jean's ear. "Thank you," he whispered. "If you didn't come, I would have been here all by myself."

Jean couldn't bear to imagine that happening. Marco buying tickets for his boyfriend and best friend, and neither of them showing up. Looking around expectantly for the fifteen minutes before the show, only to feel like an idiot when sitting alone between two empty seats. 

It made him squeeze Marco's hand once more before they turned their attention to the stage. As the play progressed, Jean had to admit he actually liked it. The music was catchy, and the plot was really interesting. He never thought he was the type to like musicals, but... being around Marco meant you tried new, exciting things. 

Finally the lights brightened, indicating the intermission. Jean was actually sad that it was half over. Seeing people perform onstage gave him a bit of a rush. 

Marco stood up. "I think I should call him... See if he's okay. Do you think I should call him?"

"I don't see why you should. It's his fault for missing it. He should call you to apologize." Jean stood up as well. "But... I guess you should call him. Just to make sure he didn't die or something."

"Okay... I'll be back soon," Marco said. And with that, he left for the lobby. 

He looked so sad... Jean was almost certain he was going to shed some tears. And that just made Jean angry at Tate. He'd better be dead or near-death for standing Marco up. 

Jean bought them both bottled waters before returning to their sets. Marco returned shortly after, and looked thankful for the water. He took a sip. "There was an emergency at work. They needed him to come in," he explained. 

"And he didn't tell you he couldn't make it?"

"Well, I'm sure he just forgot. It's no big deal," Marco shrugged. "I don't think he would like this play, anyway. Are  _you_  liking it?" He looked to Jean. 

"Yeah, of course I am. It's really good."

Marco smiled, looking relieved. "Oh, good... I'm glad."

Jean could tell the whole Tate thing really bothered Marco. However, he did a really good job at hiding it. He's always good at hiding his feelings when necessary. It's so easy for him to smile and put on a warm, friendly exterior. 

"Hey, are you gonna be okay to stay for the rest of this?" Jean asked him. The intermission was nearly over. "We can go if you want to."

"No, it's okay!" Marco insisted, smiling widely. "I'm fine, I promise. It's no big deal."

"Okay... If you're sure..."

"I am. Thank you, though. It means a lot that you care, Jean."

And so they stayed for the rest of the show. The music was good, the actors were excellent, and the stage and costumes were bright and spectacular. If Jean had any talent in acting or singing, he'd definitely consider joining Theatre. It looked like so much fun. But he knew it was harder than it appeared. 

Eventually the curtain closed for the last time, the cast taking a final bow. The amount of applause was crazy. Of course, the cast deserved it for their excellent performance. People were still clapping when Marco tugged on Jean's sleeve. 

Jean looked over. "Hm?"

"I'm going to head outside for some air... I'll wait for you," Marco said softly. 

Jean nodded, and debated going with him, but decided to let him have a few minutes alone instead. Marco slipped past people, being one of the first out the door. So Jean stayed behind for a few minutes, letting people file out until things were less crowded. He noticed the cast and people working backstage came out to chat with the people who stayed behind. Armin was there, and he waved when he caught his attention. Armin's face lit up as he waved back. 

"It was an awesome play," Jean said as soon as he walked to the blond boy. 

"I'm glad you liked it!" Armin replied, still smiling. "It was pretty rough, as it's the first play I've helped to direct."

"Direct? You directed it?" Jean asked, amazed. "We didn't know you had such a big role..."

"Co-directed," Armin corrected. "And who's 'we'?"

"Oh, Marco and I. He came, too, but he went outside to get some air. He liked the play as well," Jean assured him. 

A girl tapped on Armin's arm, motioning for them to leave. Armin turned back to Jean momentarily. "Well, tell Marco I said thanks for coming. The cast is all going out for drinks now. See you later, Jean!"

"Yeah. Bye, Armin."

Then Jean decided he'd let Marco have enough time by himself, so he headed for the exit. Not everyone had filed out of the lobby yet, but he could see Marco outside through the glass doors. He was sitting on a curb, his back to the doors, and his knees pulled to his chest. 

Jean stood in line in the lobby for a bit, where they sold drinks and small snacks. He bought two hot chocolates and a chocolate chip cookie for Marco. He wasn't sure what would cheer his friend up. He may not be thirsty or hungry at all. Perhaps he's more of the person to not have an appetite at all when he's upset. But Jean knew he had to try. He kind of felt bad for not knowing enough about his friend when he was upset. If it were the other way around, and Jean was sitting heartbroken in the cold, Marco would know exactly what to do. 

The cups of hot chocolate felt hot in his hands as soon as he got outside, where it was so cold he could see his breath whenever he exhaled. 

He neared Marco. His friend was still in an awkward position, forehead resting against his knees and his arms crossed. 

"Hey..." He spoke, clearing his throat. He took a seat on the curb beside Marco, his body close for warmth. "I, um, got you some hot chocolate. And a cookie. But if you don't want it, it's okay."

Marco lifted his head. He looked better than Jean expected him to. He wasn't crying or anything of that sort; he just looked sad. "Oh... Thank you." He took the cup and cookie, holding it by the napkin. 

Jean didn't know what to say after that, so they sat in silence as they sipped at their hot chocolate and shared the cookie. Out of the corner of his eye, Jean saw Marco set his cup down, and return to his fetal position. When he looked over, he saw his shoulders shake slightly. 

"M-Marco..." Jean sat his cup down, unsure of what to do. He reached his hand out, carefully setting it on Marco's back. He felt his own heart skip a beat.

 _I don't know what to do... Does he want to be comforted? Or does he want to be left alone?_ Jean wondered. 

Finally he decided to just comfort him. He wrapped his arm further around Marco, and Marco moved closer. Much closer. So close he was practically in Jean's lap, with his face buried in Jean's chest. Jean's cheeks reddened and he glanced around for a moment, but ultimately decided not to care what others thought. He pulled his friend close, wrapping his own jacket around Marco's body as best as he could. Marco slipped his arms under Jean's jacket and blazer, hugging his waist. Jean let out a shaky breath. He could easily feel Marco's touch with just his thin shirt separating their skin. 

"I-I'm sorry," Marco said, sniffling lightly. "I'm going to get your shirt dirty."

"It doesn't matter," Jean replied, shaking his head gently. 

"But-"

"Hush." Jean tightened his grip, pulling Marco closer. 

He couldn't help but notice how close they were. He was holding Marco in his arms. He could do anything he liked. He could just lift his chin and kiss him right on the lips. 

But he knew that wouldn't be right. Marco was dating Tate. And he was emotionally unstable at the moment.

So, instead of doing anything dramatic, Jean just lowered his head, pressing his lips gently against Marco's forehead. He did it so lightly and so subtly that he wasn't even sure if Marco realized what he'd done. But, as soon as he did do it, he felt Marco's grip on his shirt tighten. 

"Jean..." Marco murmured. "What would I do without you?"

It felt like they were alone in the universe. Like they had their problems, the world had its own. Like everything around them was dark and cold, but they had their own circle of warmth. Together. And they would get through this together.

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

One weekend, a few weeks later, Jean and Marco decided to get off campus and stay somewhere else. They went to Jean's parent's house, despite Jean's protests. But Marco's house was out of the question, since he lived hours away, and it was important that they just got away from college for a bit. 

They arrived late on Friday evening, just in time for dinner. 

Jean's parents really chatted Marco up, and Jean would blush and complain, but Marco didn't seem to mind at all. He was always smiling, laughing, and answering every question they had to offer. 

"Alright, good night, boys!" Jean's mother called as Jean and Marco climbed the stairs. 

"Night!" They called back. 

Marco focused back on Jean as they went to Jean's room. "I like your parents. They're really nice."

"More like annoying... I'm sorry they talked so much."

Marco just smiled like usual, looking sweet and cheerful. "I enjoyed their talking, actually."

In Jean's room, they stayed up for a while to play video games, until deciding to go to bed. 

"Are you actually wanting to sleep in here, with me?" Jean asked as Marco got under the covers. "Your boyfriend might not like that."

"Eh... What he doesn't know won't kill him. It's just you, Jean."

_Right. Just me._

"Well, okay." Jean settled next to Marco under the covers, and fell asleep wishing this small amount of intimacy between them meant as much to Marco as it did to him. 

* * * 

The next morning, Jean's parents decided to leave them alone in the house to go grocery shopping. He and Marco decided to stay at home. 

"Hey," Marco said softly, "do you think your parents are gone by now?"

"Yeah," Jean said. "Why?"

"Because..." Marco reached into his bag, digging deep around clothes. "I want to get high."

"Y-you what?" 

Jean could hardly believe what he was hearing. Or what he was seeing. Marco pulled out a pill bottle, and, out of that, pulled out a small bag of weed. He even had a pipe with him. 

Jean had smoked before. However, he didn't see Marco as the type to do it. 

Marco laughed when he saw Jean's expression. "I know... I said I didn't smoke. But this is a bit different, right? Anyway, I won't force you to if you don't want-"

"No, I'll do it," Jean said, laughing as well. "It's just... Really unexpected." 

They cracked open Jean's window and smoked on his bed, soon having a wave of calmness and laughs and happiness flood over them. 

Jean inhaled deeply from the pipe, slowly releasing the smoke from his lips. 

"Let me," Marco smiled, reaching for the pipe and lighter. Jean happily handed them over. 

"We should do this more often..." Jean said, leaning back against his pillows. 

Marco exhaled, blowing his smoke out. "I agree. I think I'm done."

"I'm done, too. And I'm  _so_ hungry... Can we get something to eat?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

They went downstairs, snickering under their breaths on the way. Sure enough, Jean's parent's car was gone, indicating they were still in town. 

"Mm I love getting the munchies... What do we have to eat?" Marco asked. 

"Let's see... Let's take this, this, and this... Should we heat up some pizza pockets?"

"Yes!" Marco said, his eyes lighting up. 

They waited for the pizza pockets to heat up by having a small game of catch in the kitchens. With cheese-its being the "ball" and their mouths being the "goal". 

Marco tossed one in the air, and Jean moved to get under it. It hit the corner of his lips, but still fell into his mouth. 

"Oh! You got it!" Marco excitedly said. He was grinning like a loon, now eating more cheese-its than he threw. He seemed like a child at the moment, excited by every little thing that happened. It was adorable. 

After the microwave  _ding_ ed, they carried their food back to Jean's room and began to eat it all. 

"Mm..." Marco chewed on his pizza pocket, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm getting tired..."

"Me too." Jean stuffed another donut into his mouth before getting under the covers. It was only noon, and yet he felt like he could sleep for ten whole hours. 

Marco got under the covers, and then suddenly rolled over until he was on top of Jean, his waist fitting between Jean's legs. 

"Marco..." Jean put his arms around Marco gently. He wondered why they were doing this. They weren't drunk; they still knew what they were doing, and weren't under the influence of anything as crazy as alcohol or hardcore drugs. So why was Marco being so intimate with him? 

But no matter the reason, he liked it. 

"Have you thought much on what you want to do after you graduate?" Marco asked softly, looking up at Jean with sleepy eyes. "Like, not career wise. But... everything else."

"Ugh, I'd rather not even think about it... I don't know. I guess get some small apartment and just work. You?"

"I'll probably do the same."

"Do you think we'll still hang out...?" Jean asked. 

"Of course!" He smiled. "We can do adult-y things. Go to fancy dinner parties with our friends and all that. But then we can also have those days where we can catch a movie or play video games all day."

Jean laughed lightly, but then stopped, not wanting to disturb Marco as he started to drift off to sleep. 

"I can't wait," he murmurs softly. 

* * *

Marco was rudely awakened by Jean turning into his side, causing him to push Marco off. Jean was still asleep as Marco adjusted his vision. The room was bright; he guessed it was probably close to three in the afternoon. 

He reached for his phone on the bedside table and saw that he had three messages. All were from Tate. 

He didn't tell Jean, but he and Tate had gotten into a fight just days before. Of course, after what happened at the play, it wasn't surprising that they'd gotten into some sort of disagreement. Tate wasn't sure what he wanted. But he was pretty certain he wanted the freedom of being single. 

His texts to Marco were conflicting. One sounded as though Tate was going to break up with him, while the others sounded like he wanted to stay. 

But Marco was growing tired of Tate's games. 

 _Maybe I'll just break up with him myself_ , he thought. 

Jean shifted next to him, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Marco couldn't help but smile; Jean was not a morning person, even if that morning was three p.m. 

"So, what, are you guys finally breaking up?" Jean mumbled, his eyes adjusting and seeing Tate's name on Marco's phone screen. 

Marco didn't care if Jean saw. He felt a little embarrassed, but he trusted his friend. 

"I don't know. Maybe." Then Marco frowned lightly. "What do you mean, 'finally'? I've been dating Tate for two months now. Do you really still have to be so mean towards him?"

"I just don't like the guy, that's all. He doesn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated," Jean shrugged. 

"He treats me just fine..." 

"No, he doesn't. Do you guys even have actual conversations? Or is all of your time spent together just making out?" He snapped, rubbing his eyes. It seemed as though he was forcing himself to wake up just to argue with Marco. 

Marco looked a little irritated by now, furrowing his brow. "We talk all of the time, Jean. You're not always around us, you know."

"I'm around you enough, since you guys just hang out in our dorm all of the time."

"Please just stop, Jean... I don't want to fight." Marco looked down at his hands. "We were so happy earlier today..."

 _Yeah, thanks to the weed_ , Jean thought. But he knew that wasn't the only reason why. They were happy because they were together, in each other's company, without worrying about if one liked the other.

"I want to fight. I want to fight so we can figure this out."

"I don't think there's anything to figure out."

As they talked, they got out of bed and began to pack their things. One night away from their dorm had been nice, but they knew they had things to do.

Marco looked down at his phone once more. "Tate wants to talk to me. He's coming right now to pick me up."

"Well, just don't go. You and I can do something instead," Jean suggested. "I'll get us some dinner."

Marco frowned lightly, his eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry, Jean, but Tate and I really need to work this out. It shouldn't take too long. You and I can still get dinner."

"...Fine. We'll meet up somewhere, then." Jean bit his lower lip as they headed downstairs. There was more he wanted to say to Marco, but he wasn't sure if it was the right time. 

They both said goodbye to Jean's parents, and then headed outside to wait for Tate. Marco had given him Jean's address, so he was on his way. 

"Marco?"

"Hm?" Marco smiled. 

"If you and Tate break up, what are you going to do? Who are you going to date?" Jean asked. 

"Who says I have to date anyone?" Marco lightly kicked a pebble lying on the sidewalk. "All the guys I've dated so far have just been asses... What about you, then? Are you still pursuing that one guy?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Does he know how you feel?" It seemed that Marco just wanted to steer the subject away from Tate, and to Jean. 

Jean glanced at Marco, wondering just how oblivious this boy could get. Then again, Jean never openly admitted his feelings, so it isn't surprising that Marco had no idea. 

"No, he doesn't know," Jean said. 

"Maybe you should just tell him, then."

 _Yeah... That's what Reiner and Bertholdt told me to do, too..._ Jean thought. 

"I just... I don't really know how to say it..."

"Maybe-"

"Just... Be quiet for a minute, okay?" Jean sighed. "Let me talk for at least one interrupted minute."

Marco looked hurt for a moment, but then seemed to understand that Jean was trying to get something big off his chest. He nodded.

Except, now that Jean had Marco's full attention, he realized he wasn't at all prepared. He had so much to say, and yet so little time. And, on top of that, he always thought that when he and Marco got together, it would be this dramatic, and even romantic scene. This wasn't going as he pictured. But if he didn't do it now, would he ever have the courage to?

"Marco... You've been nice to me ever since that day we met in the café. And I don't really think you understand how grateful I am for you. How much you mean to me." Jean could feel his cheeks heating up. It was so awkward to have Marco stare at him in silence. "I-I'm sure you've noticed by now... I'm awful at expressing myself through my words."

Marco opened his mouth, as though he wanted to say something, but quickly shut it.

"Go on... You can say something," Jean murmured. 

Marco smiled. "I know you aren't one with words... I always find that you do more with your actions, anyway. Like picking me up after work, and bringing me lunch when I forget to eat..." He held out his hand, his expression cheerful. 

Jean took his hand, and pulled Marco closer to him. He hugged his friend tightly, not even caring that they were still in front of his parents' house. 

"Idiot..." He mumbled, his hands gripping the fabric of Marco's jacket. "You're such an idiot... You're the only person I care about. The only one I do kind things for. I kissed a boy for you, dammit. I went from thinking I was straight to realizing it's just the opposite. And you still don't know?"

His words came out like choked venom. His tone was mean and crude, and yet tears came with it.

Marco's body felt stiff under Jean's touch, and he wondered if he made things worse between them. But then, after a moment, Marco gently hugged him back. 

"Jean... I don't know what to say. I'm not sure I understand," Marco whispered. 

Jean stiffened, and attempted to pull away from Marco.  _Did Marco just reject me? Or_ _is he just that oblivious_ _?_

He wasn't sure how to feel. A part of him just assumed Marco would feel the same way. They were so close, after all. Close enough that others who didn't know them might think they were already in a relationship. But perhaps he was playing dumb in order to not hurt Jean's feelings. 

Jean could hear the faint sound of a car coming down the street, and Marco completely pulled away from him. 

"Oh... I'm sorry. You're really important to me, Jean. You know that, right?" He didn't even wait for Jean to nod or anything. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I should end things with Tate before I do anything else..."

"I understand," Jean said, wiping away his tears quickly. "You know, you can just forget all of this. Forget about what I said."

Jean turned on his heel heading for his truck. He felt so humiliated. How was he supposed to face Marco ever again? And he was sure Marco would tell all of his friends. How could he face them again, either? 

By the time he got into his truck, he could see Marco in his rear view mirror, climbing into Tate's car. 

_I'm sorry, Marco. I ruined everything. I guess I should have just kept my mouth shut, after all..._


	18. Chapter Eighteen

All Marco could do for a few moments was stare blankly at the road before him and Tate.

He wasn't entirely sure of what had just happened between him and Jean. Jean confessed to him, didn't he? He was always so confusing, ever since that first kiss in the café. One moment Marco was certain he loved Jean, and Jean loved him, but then something would happen that made him believe it wasn't true after all. And he got tired of it. It was a constant roller coaster of guessing and being disappointed. So, when Jean actually did confess, he wasn't sure if it was for real or not. Besides, he didn't  _actually_  say it. Never once did the words, 'I love you', 'I want to date you', or even 'I really like you' ever come out of Jean's mouth. Or, if they did, he couldn't tell. Jean had spoken so quickly, and his words were slightly muffled since he spoke into Marco's shoulder. 

He remembered their first kiss. Jean's lips felt so soft and so right against his own. And every time he climbed into bed next to Jean, he felt happy and he knew he could stay by Jean's side for hours. 

Even now, thinking of how Jean was in his arms just minutes ago, Marco couldn't help but blush. 

 _I think I do want that,_  Marco thought to himself.  _I do like Jean. That much is obvious. But, Jesus, does he finally know what he wants? Or is he going to kiss me and then change his mind again?_

"Marco? Marco. Pay attention."

Marco suddenly looked over, snapping out of his thoughts. He saw Tate, staring at him, and suddenly felt bad for not listening. "Oh, I'm sorry... I was thinking about something else."

"About what?" Tate asked. 

It was nice that he actually cared... But Marco didn't think he would care so much if he knew it was about Jean. 

"Oh, it's nothing really. There's just a lot going on." He looked ahead of them and saw that Jean's truck was still parked. Perhaps he was waiting for him and Tate to go. He bit his lower lip, and suddenly had an impulsive thought. It was crazy, and maybe not a great idea since he wasn't entirely sure of what happened between him and Jean, but... He knew he had to do it. 

"I'm sorry, Tate, but can you give me a minute? I forgot to say something to Jean..." Marco said. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here." He just shrugged. 

Marco jumped out of the car and rushed to Jean's truck. Without any warning, he opened the passenger's side and hopped in, shutting the door behind him. 

Jean jumped as soon as he saw Marco. He looked surprised, and even a little scared. Although he always kept a pretty tough exterior, Marco could see that his eyes were still slightly red from his moment of weakness earlier. 

"M-Marco, what are you doing?"

"I just had one last thing to tell you," Marco said. He could feel his palms grow clammy, and he was beginning to have second thoughts. 

Jean's cool eyes looked eager to hear what Marco had to say. Hopeful, even. Marco's heart skipped a beat as he took in all of Jean's appearance. His angular jaw, his straight nose, and the piercings he had in his upper ear cartilage. His hair had just been re-dyed last week, the top now lightened and his dark roots gone. And, with his tough exterior broken, Marco felt as though he had new feelings for Jean. A new kind of love. His love for Jean was always there, whether it showed or it was tucked deep into his heart. But it never went away. It was like a deep thought he pondered on often, but stayed at the back of his mind even after he began to think of other things. 

"So, what is-"

Marco leaned forward and grabbed Jean's shoulder, pressing his lips against Jean's suddenly. It caught Jean completely off guard, and he leaned back until he was pressed against his seat. 

After a second, Marco could feel Jean's lips finally start to react. He smiled against the kiss, feeling the warmth of Jean's body as they moved closer, and as the kiss grew more passionate. 

This. This feeling. This excitement. This is what Marco always thought it felt like to be in love. And with neither of them drunk or doing this by accident. 

Jean pulled away, and pressed his forehead against Marco's gently. 

"Maybe I am an idiot," Marco whispered, "but this is what you wanted to do earlier, isn't it?" He kissed Jean's lips once, twice more, leaving them both wanting more each time. 

"What-" Jean was interrupted with another kiss. "What does this mean?"

Marco smiled widely, his thumbs lightly caressing Jean's hands. "I guess we'll just have to figure that out over our date tonight, won't we?"

And with that, Marco stepped out of Jean's truck, heading back to Tate's car. And, despite the immense amount of happiness he felt, and the flutter in his stomach, he also felt a pang of guilt. He was technically still dating Tate, even if he and Tate were just minutes from breaking up. 

"Okay," Marco said, shutting the door to Tate's car behind him. "What did you want to say?" He hoped he didn't look too flushed, and wasn't smiling too widely. 

"Okay." Tate started up the engine. "So, I've really enjoyed hanging out with you, Marco. I've had a lot of fun, and you're a really nice guy."

Marco nodded as he listened, a smile on his face. He knew what was coming next. A breakup. But it didn't matter. His heart was still beating fast from his kiss with Jean. 

"I just think we have different things in mind. I mean, you seem really serious. Like you're looking for marriage-material. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

It was sort of true. The way Marco saw it, if you weren't in it for the long run, why be in it at all?

"Yeah. I understand, Tate." Marco always knew it probably wouldn't work out with Tate. He would want to find new guys, and find new adventures. He was just fresh out of high school, after all. 

Tate smiled lightly. "I'm glad you understand." Then he laughed lightly. "Besides, that roommate of yours was starting to scare me. He was way too protective of you."

Marco laughed as well. Except, it was hard to laugh about Jean at the moment. "He cares about me... And I care about him. We look out for one another."

Marco didn't want to mention that he liked Jean. Especially considering he and Tate broke up just a minute ago. 

"Can I buy you a coffee?" Tate asked, pulling in to a café. "I think it's safe to say we can still hang out as friends, right?"

The time was only three-thirty. There was still time to get some coffee with Tate, and then dinner with Jean later.

"Sure," Marco smiled. 

* * *

Jean stood in front of the mirror for a solid twenty minutes, continuously switching between shirts, trying different pants, different shoe types, and even testing out a tie. Before, he thought his dinner tonight with Marco would be quiet and awkward. Now he thought it would be quiet, awkward, but also romantic. 

He didn't consider himself to be a romantic. In fact, he considered himself to be the opposite. But tonight he wanted to dress nice, and take Marco somewhere nice, and tell him how he truly felt. Not the mess of words he came up with earlier on the spot. He wanted to be calm and collected, and actually say, "I love you, Marco Bodt." 

Jean's phone vibrated from his bed, and he neatly draped the tie over his dresser before grabbing it. The screen was still lit up, indicating a text from Freckles. 

 _We just got coffee... Be back in maybe an hour. Where are we getting dinner? :)_ Marco texted. 

Jean texted the address and time to meet up, but kept the name a secret. It was a pretty expensive restaurant, but he did have  _some_  money. And he didn't mind spending it on this. Luckily, the restaurant was also a short walk. And an even shorter drive. 

 _Dress nice_ , Jean told him. 

_How nice is nice?_

_Super nice. Semi-formal at the least._

Jean watched as Marco typed, paused, and then continued to type.

_Where the hell are you taking me?_

Jean replied,  _I thought we could go somewhere nice. Are you okay with that?_

Jean watched the message be sent, and then be delivered. But unlike the other ones, this one wasn't read immediately. Jean waited a few minutes, but then sat his phone down again. He was sure Marco would reply in good time. 

Time passed, and Jean finally just decided on dress pants, a white button-up shirt, and a casual suit jacket. He hoped he didn't look too dressed up. Or not dressed up enough. But before he could finish getting ready, there was a knock on his dorm door. 

 _Who could that be? Do I want it to be anyone at all? I kind of have somewhere to be..._  He thought to himself. Then again, there was about forty-five minutes before he even had to leave to get to the restaurant in time. 

Walking to the door, he opened it, revealing Reiner and Bertholdt standing in the hall. They had smiles on their faces, Reiner's looking more snarky and teasing, while Bert's genuinely happy and kind. 

"Someone has a date!" Reiner said in a sing-song voice, his eyes glinting mischievously. 

"Did Marco tell the two of you already?" Jean asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. 

"Of course. You know Marco. He gets excited," Reiner replied. 

"We're so happy for you both," Bertholdt said. 

"Thanks," Jean said. "Although, it isn't official yet. Tonight I think I'm going to tell him I love him..." Jean was a little embarrassed to admit it out loud, but it was how he truly felt. "I know it's early, and we aren't dating, but..."

"Don't worry," Bert assured him. "I think Marco feels the same way. And you two have been suppressing your feelings for a while, yeah? So it's not like it's  _too_  sudden."

That was honestly the most Jean had ever heard Bert say at one time. But what he did have to say was very helpful. 

"I sure hope so."

Jean invited them in, and they sat on Marco's bed thanks to his absence. They talk about all sorts of things; not just Jean and Marco's newly formed more-than-friends-but-not-boyfriends relationship. 

Jean checked his phone again. Still no Marco. 

"Hey, what's up?" Reiner asked. You've been checking your phone every two minutes. Expecting a call from your sweetheart?"

"No! Well, I mean, kind of... A text." Jean showed them his screen. "My text was delivered, but he hasn't read it yet."

Bertholdt and Reiner pursed their lips. "His phone might've died before he could reply," Bert suggested. 

That made a lot of sense to Jean. Especially since they stayed the night at his house, and he was certain Marco didn't plug in his phone all day while they slept. Jean sighed in relief. Their dinner was still on. Marco wasn't just ignoring him. 

"That's probably it," Jean smiled. "Anyway, I should get going. I want to get there early so he can come back to the dorm and get ready. We decided to meet up instead of going together."

"Maybe so it'd seem like an actual date and not just dinner with your roommate," Reiner laughed. 

Reiner and Bertholdt headed for the door, and Jean grabbed his keys and wallet before following. They wished him luck in his date before parting. 

He checked his phone one last time before leaving for the restaurant. Marco still hadn't read his text. But he wasn't worried. Marco knew the time and place they were meeting up. 

Jean could barely hide his excitement as he drove to the restaurant. He'd told Marco to meet him outside, but he was nearly twenty minutes early. And, it was also pouring really hard. He could barely see five feet ahead of him. So he stayed in his truck parked in front of the restaurant, where he had a perfect view of everyone coming from down the street. 

Then, after his excitement, nervousness came. He fidgeted as he waited, and wondered if he dressed okay. Wondered if he should have gotten flowers. Wondered if Marco would be okay with the words, "I love you". 

The twenty minutes became ten, and the ten minutes became two. Jean sat up quickly as he finally saw a dark-haired boy walking towards him in the rain, umbrella overhead. 

Except the boy didn't have freckles, and he was shorter than Marco. The boy passed by, as did the minutes. 

Jean chewed on his lower lip. He chewed on it so much it started to bleed in one small spot. He also constantly checked his phone, searching for updates. 

_Maybe they broke down. Or maybe he's at the dorm, and just can't decide what to wear. Or..._

Jean swallowed harshly, clenching his fists. 

_Or maybe he realized he liked Tate more, and they got back together. Maybe Marco feels bad for leading me on, and so he's ignoring me._

He felt a lump grow in his throat as he checked the time again. Marco was thirty minutes late already. Perhaps it would be best if he went home and checked up on his friend. Tried to find him. 

He called Marco. No answer. Finally he decided to just head back to the University. He would talk to Reiner and Bertholdt after he got back.

Of course, by now he was no longer feeling happy. He felt upset that Marco blew him off. Worried, even, that maybe he blew him off unintentionally. Because it wasn't like Marco at all to do something like that. He was kind, and bright, and always alerting people of plans have to change. 

Jean was still driving when his phone finally rang. Without even a second thought, he pulled over into the nearest parking lot and answered his phone. 

"Yeah?"

He waited to hear Marco's voice. His calm, soothing voice, which would hopefully be happy to hear Jean's voice as well. 

"Jean..."

It wasn't Marco at all. It was Bertholdt. 

Jean sighed, but then decided to just talk to Bertholdt anyway. "Oh, Bert... What's up?"

"I-I don't..." Bert sighed lightly. "Reiner thought it would be best if I told you. He says I'm better at talking to people-"

"Tell me what? What's going on?" Jean demanded, not caring that he interrupted. He felt his heart rate increase as he sensed Bert's uneasiness. 

"It... It's Marco. He was in an accident." 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Jean pushed open the tan doors, decorated to look nicer than than they should. Hospitals shouldn't be nice. They shouldn't be decorated. They're places of sickness, and death, and only rarely of health and miracles. 

He didn't wait to hear any details from Bert. He still was unaware of why Marco was in the hospital, how bad his situation was, or even  _where_  he was. Bertholdt told him he'd wait for him near the entrance of the hospital. 

Jean turned quickly to the right, but then he saw Bert closer to the left. 

_Oh, God. Please don't let Marco be in that section. Please just be over there, close to the urgent care hallway, by simple coincidence._

"He's this way," Bertholdt said to Jean, pointing just barely towards urgent care. He looked tired. And his eyes looked red, as though he'd cried a bit. 

Jean quickly followed after him, the both of them walking quickly. "So what happened? Why is he here? Is he okay?" Jean asked. 

"He's alive," Bert said. "But he's in bad condition. I'm not sure of the exact details... He and Tate are both unconscious at the moment, so there's no one but bystanders to tell the story. They were stopped at a stoplight, and the car behind them lost control. The rain probably had something to do with it..."

Jean swallowed hard as he walked quickly. That explained everything. It explained why Marco was replying quickly and then, all of a sudden, stopped. But it made him feel sick to think that, at the very second Jean had his phone in his hand and was talking to Marco, a terrible crash had occurred. And he had no idea. 

Jean knew they were there before Bert even stopped. He saw Reiner and Connie, sitting in the waiting room. There were a couple other people, but they sat on the far end of the room. They both looked incredibly stressed. Jean wondered how he looked. 

Connie's eyes landed on Jean. "Jean... What are you wearing..?"

"I..." Jean glanced down. "We were going to get dinner..." His voice trembled on his last word, but he fought to keep his composure. "Have you guys seen him yet? Where are his parents?"

"Jean, we don't know much more than you do," Reiner said. We called you just after we got the call. Bert and I were still listed as two of his emergency contacts... Anyway, we haven't seen him yet. They're still treating him."

"Treating him?"

"Yeah... You know. Surgery. He and Tate obviously had some injuries. They have to fix him up and get his condition stabilized before anything else," Reiner explained. "Why don't you have a seat? We may be here for a while."

Reiner motioned to the seat cushion next to him on the couch he was on, and Jean reluctantly sat. 

"Okay... I just... Where are his parents? Are they coming?"

"Hey, easy... He'll be okay," Bertholdt said gently as he noticed Jean's uneven breaths, probably afraid he'd start hyperventilating. "His parents should get here in about an hour. All we can do for now is wait."

Things were tense at first. They all sat stiffly, ready to abruptly stand if need be. They didn't even glance at the tv, which was showing some cooking show. 

Eventually, however, they all forced themselves to relax. They leaned back in their chairs and stood up to get coffee (even though it was nearing the time of night they should've been sleeping). Jean even attempted to look more casual and get more comfortable, taking off his suit jacket. 

Reiner and Bertholdt went to get coffee for the four of them, and they began to talk before getting far enough away to be out of earshot. 

"I think Jean is taking this worse than the rest of us," Reiner commented. 

"I think so, too."

Jean closed his eyes, and glanced at the clock once more. The accident happened in the early evening, at about six. It was nearing nine. And he knew it would be another half-hour at least before Marco's parents would even get here. How would they react? Would they snap out of their career-driven minds and put their son first for once? 

A small smile toyed Jean's lip.  _I think that would make Marco happy. Once he wakes up... His parents' full attention will be on him._

"I don't know how much longer I can stay," Connie admitted beside him. 

"I'm staying as long as I can," Jean replied. "Until they have to kick me out."

Connie gave him a sympathetic glance, and then ran a hand over his hair. His short, almost nonexistent hair. "What about classes tomorrow?"

"I'll skip them," Jean said, without even taking a second to think. "I can't go anywhere until I know he's okay."

"But you'll be behind-" 

"It doesn't matter," he snapped, furrowing his brow. "How can any of us continue without knowing whether he'll live or die?" His voice started to tremble again, and he realized just how unstable he was emotionally. He hadn't allowed himself to cry yet. "I'm sorry. I'll understand if you leave. And... We'll keep you updated on his condition."

He meant it sincerely, but the bitterness stayed from his previous statement. He had to sound bitter. If he allowed himself any other emotion, he knew he might break. 

Bert and Reiner returned with the coffee. Connie left shortly after that. And, within the hour, Mr. and Mrs. Bodt arrived. They'd met Jean, Reiner, and Bertholdt all at least once, as Marco hated to go home for the holidays alone. He always brought home a friend for at least a few days. 

It was strange to see his parents look so distressed and worried. Jean actually felt bad for doubting their love for their son; they seemed human now. Before, when Jean met them at their home, they seemed almost untouchable. Like they were beyond the troubles of the world. 

They spoke with the receptionist, and soon, a doctor entered the waiting room. He spoke softly with Mr. and Mrs. Bodt, and then motioned for them to come with him. 

Jean stood abruptly, watching them go. And wondering if they got to see Marco now. Were the doctors finished with him? 

"I don't think they'll get to see him," Bertholdt assured Jean. "If they do, only briefly. I was assured a doctor would be out to inform us on Marco's condition as soon as possible."

"Right... I'm... I'm going out. I'll be back in a little," Jean mumbled. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, following the signs to the front of the hospital. He shook his hands as he walked, attempting to get some blood flowing. He was tired, distraught, and still felt like an idiot because of his fancy clothes. He considered going back to the university to change, but decided against it. So much could happen in the thirty minutes he'd be gone. 

When he got outside, he went straight for his truck. And from there, he went for the only pack of smokes he owned. The ones that had taken him months just to get almost half-empty. He put a cigarette between his lips and fumbled with the lighter. He flicked it a few times, each time harder, and each time watching as the spark got smaller and smaller. 

"Fuck," he muttered, his hands shaking. He felt a lump rise in his throat, and his vision grew blurry, until he could no longer take it. Tears streamed from his eyes, running messily down his cheeks, and ugly noises escaped his lips. "God... Dammit... Marco... Why?!" 

His whole body shook as he cried, his knees falling to the hard pavement and his cigarettes lying next to him. 

He knew crying wouldn't help. But he couldn't control his tears as they just spilled out. 

* * *

Jean cleaned himself up, and quickly went back into the hospital. If he thought he looked like a mess before, he knew he really did now. His eyes and cheeks were probably red and puffy, and his knees were wet and dirty. But, he arrived just in time, because soon a doctor came into the waiting room. 

"Friends and family of Marco Bodt?" The doctor asked. 

They all stood. Including Marco's parents. 

"Is he going to be alright?" Mrs. Bodt asked, clinging onto her husband's arm. 

"He's out of surgery, but still in a coma-like state. We think he should wake within a day or two, though. As for his injuries..."

Jean felt a bit of relief. Just a bit. He'd wake up in a day or two. Then again, that was a while to go without waking up. 

"Well," the doctor started, glancing once more at his clipboard over his glasses, "the impact of the car caused a bit of a whiplash effect, if you will. Some of his muscles and tendons are a bit stretched, but that can be healed with time and physical therapy. His sprains aren't very serious, luckily. He also has some minor cuts and bruises. The worst part is his right arm and leg. He must have been turned in his seat, or somehow managed to be thrown hard against the door. It's hard to explain how it happened, but it's a possibility he may lose those limbs."

Jean began to feel sick again.  _Lose two of his limbs? What sort of life would that create for him? Could he have the life he wants?_ He stood up suddenly, clenching his fists. "He's going to be alright, isn't he? Isn't there anything you can do so he can keep them? He can't-!"

Reiner grabbed Jean's arm gently, urging him to sit back down. And probably just in time, too. Jean's knees began to shake, and he sat back down heavily, covering his mouth with his hands.

"I'm afraid it isn't certain at this moment," the doctor said. "He should be ready for guests first thing in the morning. As long as you don't mind seeing him in his state. Family will get to visit first, of course, and then we'll do our best to fit in times for friends."

No one minded seeing him in a coma. They all just wanted to see him, period. 

Bert placed his hand over Jean's. It startled Jean for a moment, and he looked up at the tall brunet. 

"We love Marco... But I think you love him the most. If only some of us can see him, I think you should be the first," Bertholdt said. 

"Are you sure?" Jean asked. "I mean, I'm really thankful, but..."

"Bert is right," Reiner said. "No need to thank us. We're just doing what Marco would've wanted."

"...Thank you. I don't really know how to thank you."

"Don't worry about it," Reiner smiled. 

Hours passed, without Jean even realizing it. One moment he was sitting with Bert and Reiner, chatting. And then next, he was being shaken awake. 

"Hm...?" Jean opened his eyes slowly, letting his eyes adjust. His vision was blurry, and his body ached from being in an awkward position. He was on the small couch, taking up the entire space. He must've fallen asleep. 

"It's late, Jean... You really should go home," Reiner said above him. He and Bert had their things collected, and looked ready to go. 

"Oh... Uh... I don't know if I'm going..."

"What? Don't be ridiculous... You can't stay here all night. They'll probably kick you out," Reiner replied. 

"But what if something happens to Marco? I won't know about it," Jean argued. 

"You will," Bertholdt insisted. "We're two of his emergency contacts, so the hospital will call us. And we'll call you as soon as we hear anything, okay? Promise."

"I-I don't know..."

"It's after midnight. We all need rest." Bertholdt put his arm on Jean's shoulder gently, and they slowly made their way out of the waiting room. 

All Jean wanted was to see Marco. He didn't need to touch him, talk to him, or even see him awake. All he needed was to see him. To see that he was alive, and to see that this was really happening.

But Jean left the hospital with his two friends, knowing it was for the best. He decided to attend his major classes, and, in between, visit the hospital. Marco wouldn't want him to get behind on his classes. 

He got to his dorm room, dark and empty. He never realized it before, but the room smelled mostly of Marco. Of course, Marco had lived in the room longer. But, even with the familiar smell, it all seemed wrong without the freckled boy's presence. 

He changed out of his dirty clothes, and put on a T-shirt and clean pair of boxers. Then he sat on his bed. He felt like crying again, but no tears came out. And so he turned off the lights, and instead settled onto Marco's bed. It was like he was there. His scent was so strong. All that was missing was his touch. 

 _Marco..._  Jean thought.  _I never realized just how madly, desperately, hopelessly in love with you I am._

_Until now._


	20. Chapter Twenty

"Now, before you go, be sure to have a selected topic or painting for your essay, and turn it in online so I can offer some tips," Professor Ackerman spoke, standing at the front of the lecture hall. "You are all dismissed." 

Jean stood from his chair, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. However, just as he finished collecting his books, Professor Ackerman said one last thing. 

"Mr. Kirschtein? Could you stay behind, please?"

It amazed Jean sometimes that Professor Ackerman knew his name. Professors couldn't remember all names and faces, of course, but Jean was one of the lucky few that this professor did remember. His other professors, on the other hand? Not so much. 

Jean walked to the front of the room, to the man that was at least five inches shorter than he was. His stare was cold, but Jean had a feeling he wasn't called up there to be yelled at or anything of the sort. He was itching to get out of there so he could visit the hospital, but, according to Reiner and Bertholdt, Marco's condition hadn't changed. 

"Yes, sir?"

"Jean, the staff was notified early this morning of Marco Bodt's condition. I know you're close with him. How is he doing?" Professor Ackerman asked. 

"Oh, um, he's doing alright... He'll at least live..."

Professor Ackerman didn't respond, and Jean took that as a sign to elaborate. 

"He still hasn't woken up, but the surgery went okay... They're certain they were able to save his limbs," Jean said. "It'll take some months for recovery, and a few more for physical therapy, but I'm sure he'll be back to normal in no time!" 

His own enthusiasm sickened him. He didn't know if Marco would be fine. He didn't know if his limbs were saved. He didn't know if anything could really go back to the way they were. He just hoped. 

"His parents already pulled him out of all of his classes. I suppose that means he'll have to return for an extra year. He'll be a year behind."

"Yeah..." Jean said, biting his lower lips. He knew things wouldn't be easy. He knew Marco's life, once perfectly on track, would change drastically. "But it's okay. He's a really smart guy. He can double up on some classes, and study in the summer."

"Yes," Professor Ackerman mused. "Yes, I'm sure he'll do fine. Especially with such good friends." He walked to his podium and collected his things, preparing to leave. "Well, we will all have Mr. Bodt in our thoughts. And, as an educator, I suppose I'm required to ask one last question. How are _you_?" 

Jean stiffened for a moment. Even though, as Professor Ackerman said, he was sort of required to ask the question, it meant a lot to Jean. Ackerman was so cold and blunt, and yet he really did care about others. 

"I-I'm alright, sir."

"Will you be alright in all of your classes?"

"I think so."

"Hm. Well if you ever need help, you can always stop by my office. Even if it isn't class related." Despite his kind words, Professor Ackerman then let out a scoffing sound. "Now get out of here, Kirschtein. I know you're eager to leave."

"Thank you, sir..." Jean pursed his lips. "I appreciate it." Then he turned on his heel and began to head for the door. He thought it was really nice of his professor, and he knew how hard it was for him to offer his support and still maintain a professional environment. 

Jean checked his phone one last time as he got into his truck. No new calls or messages. That was good, sort of. A message could mean two things. It could mean Marco's condition had improved, or... It could mean something far worse. So, for the most part, no messages relaxed him a bit. 

Reiner and Bertholdt would probably get to the hospital a bit later, as they still wanted to attend all of their classes. But Jean just couldn't wait that long. Today he actually got to _see_  Marco. To put all of this into reality. 

Jean began to wonder if Marco's parents were still at the hospital, or if they had decided to find a hotel to stay and relax in. They had probably already seen Marco early this morning. He couldn't imagine the sort of pain they were feeling, now that the initial shock was gone, and only pain and worry were left behind. 

After pulling into the hospital, Jean went to the front desk, and inquired about Marco. 

"Yes, I can arrange for you to visit him," the receptionist told him. She was a young, attractive woman, probably in her late twenties, but Jean didn't pay too much attention to her. Just to what she was saying. "If you'd like to wait in the waiting room on the second floor, I can have someone come out to get you soon. Mr. Bodt is in the recovery section at the moment."

"Thank you." Jean headed for the elevators, his fingers twitching nervously. He felt sick. Hospitals always made him feel sick. But now, with all that was happening, it just made him feel worse. 

Nurses passed him. Families passed him. Some looked happy. Others looked tired and distressed. Jean realized he hadn't yet asked about Tate, and the condition he was in. But, according to Reiner and Bert, Marco's condition was worse. Therefore, Marco was the only one Jean cared about at the moment. 

After about ten minutes, a nurse finally came to get Jean in the waiting room. She explained to Jean how Marco was (his condition was stable, and the surgery had gone very well) and told him some simple, obvious rules (don't put too much stress on the patient, get a nurse if help is needed...). And then it was happening. Jean was in front of Marco's room. He went in alone, assuring the nurse he'd call for help or assistance if he required it. He took a moment before letting him eyes land on Marco. He took a moment to let his stomach settle. 

Marco was hooked up to so many tubes. He wasn't even breathing on his own. All of his right side was bandaged, but his arm and leg looked the worst. Of course, he figured they would, as the surgery was just last night. He looked pale. If it weren't for the forced rising and falling of his chest, Jean would think he was dead. 

He walked closer, finally pulling up a chair to sit close to Marco's left side. He didn't dare get close to the right side, in fear he would mess something up or cause Marco pain. 

Slowly, carefully, he touched Marco's hand. This wasn't going at all the way he thought it would. It wasn't even close to the images painted in books and movies, where the protagonist would walk in, see their friend, with maybe a couple of scrapes and bruises. They would take their friend's hand, and slowly their eyes would flutter open. 

But this wasn't the same. Marco wasn't going to miraculously wake when he felt Jean's touch. Jean wasn't going to hold his hand for hours until nightfall, and then sleep next to Marco's body. His skin wasn't warm and pink, and his hair was messy and dirty. 

However, there was one thing in the movies that was accurate. Seeing his loved one in such a state really did make him want to just break down and cry. 

His hand began to feel clammy over Marco's, but he didn't care. Even if all he could touch was the tips of Marco's fingers, he was happy. Even if he could only see him hooked up to a machine, it was better than not seeing him at all. 

Jean glanced around. The room was so quiet. The walls seemed thick, as he couldn't hear anything going on in the hallway. Or maybe there wasn't anything going on in the hallway. Maybe the rest of the hospital had a silence as eerie as the one in Marco's room. Quiet, except for the steady beeps from his heart monitor. He swore for a moment that the rate increased when he squeezed Marco's hand, but figured it was just his imagination. 

"Marco..."

His own voice broke the uncomfortable silence in the room, but it only made him more uncomfortable.

 _People do this, don't they?_  He thought. _They talk to people in comas who can't hear a word they're saying. I'm not weird._

He actually didn't really know what to say. Whatever he had to say, he wanted Marco to hear it when he was awake. What was the point of saying it all now? But he knew people talked to those in comas all of the time. So, what if this was the last time he was ever able to see Marco? He thought it was better to tell him now, in this state, than after he was six feet under. 

"So, um... I think you're going to be okay," Jean continued, his hand still holding Marco's lightly. "You won't have to worry about college for a while. So, when you wake up, just worry about getting better, okay?"

Jean swallowed lightly. He wanted to say so much to him, yet he couldn't think of much then.

"You gave us quite a scare, you know that? But I know it isn't your fault... It's not like you want to be in a coma or anything... Anyway, I'm just so glad you're okay. I couldn't sleep very well last night. I couldn't stop thinking about you." He pulls his hand away for a moment, only to rub his face (and rub away the tears forming in his eyes). "I never knew how much I loved you, Marco. I just wish I didn't have to figure it out like this. I'd much rather have some cliché, sappy way of realizing I loved you. Of course, I'm sure you would like that, too..."

He stopped speaking. He knew he sounded stupid, as though he were talking to himself. So he stood for a moment and leaned over Marco's body, gently pressing his lips to the boy's forehead. He knew he probably wasn't allowed to do that, due to sanitary reasons, but he didn't care. Despite his pale skin, Marco actually seemed fairly warm. That gave him some relief. 

Jean stayed by Marco's side as long as he could, until he was asked to leave. It was a bit difficult to see patients in comas, especially just a day after surgery. And even harder if you were just a friend, and not family. 

"I would suggest coming after noon tomorrow," the nurse suggested. "We're going to try to see if he can breathe on his own. If he does, it'll be a huge improvement!" 

Jean smiled lightly, as much of a smile as he could muster, and nodded. "I'll do that... Thank you."

Jean sent messages to both Bertholdt and Reiner, informing them of Marco's current condition, and was sure to add the part about hopefully getting him to breathe on his own. The news lifted his spirits a bit. Marco would be one step closer to recovery. And soon he would be awake, weak and stuck in bed, but awake. His eyes would open, and even if they would be dull and tired, Jean would actually have some relief from seeing their warmth. Things were finally getting better.

* * * 

The next day, Jean, Reiner, and Bertholdt were all sitting in the waiting room. It was two o'clock, and they figured they had allowed the hospital enough time to try their little experiment with Marco. 

Bertholdt was leaning against Reiner's shoulder. He didn't really seem tired... just upset. And Reiner, despite always putting on a tough exterior, was being kind and gentle. He put his arm lightly around Bert, and squeezed his shoulder. 

"You okay?" He murmured, his blue-grey eyes landing on his friend. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine... I'm just worried..." Bertholdt replied softly.

"He'll be okay," Reiner assured him. Then, rubbing Bertholdt's shoulder gently, he looked to Jean. "How are you doing, Jean?"

Jean glanced up, not expecting to be addressed. "I'm okay..."

"Have you talked to Ashton recently?" Reiner asked. 

"Yeah, I have. I told him what happened."

"Is he coming down?"

"No..." Jean said. "I told him not to. Why?"

"Well, don't you think it'd be good for you to have him here? I mean, I just thought of it. Bert and I have been roommates since our freshman year. We're best friends. And we have each other to depend on while this is happening," Reiner explained. "And, while we're also your good friends, I just thought you'd like to have someone you're more comfortable with."

Of course Jean had already thought about asking Ashton to come down. But, in the end, he decided against it. He didn't want to disrupt Ashton's life and school. _Maybe he can come down this weekend_ , he thought. _But not during the week._  

"I'll talk to him about it. Thanks, Reiner."

As he watched Reiner and Bertholdt out of the corner of his eye, watching their movements and light embrace, he realized it would be nice to have someone like that. Except, the only person he depended on like that now (since Ashton moved) was the one they were all worrying about. The only person that couldn't be there with them. Marco. 

"Hello. I understand you're here for Mr. Bodt?" A nurse suddenly came up to them, clipboard in her hands. 

They all sat up, confirming in unison.

"Okay. Well, we were hoping to get Marco off of the machine, and one step closer to steadying his condition, but he isn't quite ready yet. However, his vitals are doing well, and his heartbeat his steady, so we're going to try again tomorrow."

Jean nodded lightly, but he feared he wasn't able to hide his disappointment. "So... It isn't necessarily a bad thing that it didn't work today, right?"

"Right. We still have some time before it will be considered bad, so there's no need to worry. Your friend will get better with time."

There it was again. News that, while not bad, was not good either. He wasn't doing terribly, but he also wasn't improving. He was just... okay. At this point, Jean almost just felt like going back to his dorm, taking some sleeping pills, and collapsing in his bed until the next day came. He just couldn't bear to wait. 


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

One day passed. The hospital was able to get Marco breathing on his own, despite still being in a coma-like state. But everyone was somewhat happy for once. They no longer had to worry about receiving a phone call from the hospital with bad news. His condition just kept improving.

The weekend arrived. Jean asked Ashton to come down for the weekend, and he agreed. It felt so nice to actually have someone comfort him. To have someone hug him. Of course, Reiner and Bertholdt had hugged him a couple of times in the hospital, but the hugs were brief and awkward, despite their friendship. They just weren't _that_ good of friends.

Ashton had hugged him tightly in his hotel room, and Jean buried his face into his friend's chest. He didn't mean to be so clingy and emotional. It just happened. Tears flowed from his eyes, even though he told himself he didn't have to be sad. Marco was okay. He was getting better.

And then they stayed in Ashton's hotel room, and Jean hugged a pillow tightly, just happy for Ashton's presence.

"My girlfriend is expecting me back early on Monday morning. I wish I could stay longer, though," Ashton said.

"You have a girlfriend?" Jean asked, his face lighting up.

"Oh, yeah... We've only been officially going out for a week or two. But I really like her..." Ashton smiled, running a hand through his light hair. "You should come down sometime and we can all hang out."

"I'd like that. And... Eventually, you know, I can bring Marco... And we can all go out on double dates." He had a smile on his face, hopeful for the future, but he was also sad. Wishful thinking like that could just get him in trouble.

"That'll be really fun!" Ashton replied, keeping a cheerful smile just for Jean's sake. Then his expression turned serious. "Jean... I don't want to turn things south, but... When do you think he'll wake up? The doctors said it would probably be soon, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they did... But they've been wrong before. They thought they could get him breathing on his own just two days after his surgery, but that didn't happen. I think it'll be soon, though. Before the end of next week."

"Do you think you'll be there when he wakes?" Ashton laid down onto his side, using his elbow to prop up his head. He had a smirk on his face. "Do you think you'll be holding his hand, and watch him come out of his coma, and share a nice, passionate kiss?"

"I can't tell if you're joking or if you've just watched too many romance films," Jean said, laughing gently. "I'd like to be there. But I won't kiss him. I don't even think I'll touch him. I think I'd just squeeze him too tightly and end up hurting him..."

Ashton shifted on the bed, still smiling widely. "I actually can't wait for him to wake up. I can't wait to get text updates about your relationship, and go on double dates... We should go back to that bowling place, too! After he feels better, of course..."

Jean smiled. "I can't wait, either..."

* * *

Jean's parents somehow found out about Marco. He thought about telling them, of course, but never actually got around to it. So when they called him frantically asking how he was, it came as quite a surprise. He agreed to come home for a bit. But only for one day. It was oddly comforting to be home, where he was fed all the food he could stomach, and comforted by people he didn't necessarily want to be comforted by, but accepted anyway.

"Do you want another sandwich, Jean?" His mother called from the kitchen. However, when she came into the living room, she saw that Jean hadn't even finished his first one. "What's wrong, sweetie? Aren't you hungry?"

"No... I'm full..."

Jean glanced up at the familiar deep red walls, decorated with dark wooden shelves holding pictures of the family, a large, extravagant cuckoo clock, and little figurines of sorts. In most of the photos Jean was just a kid, his hair a dark brown and often getting himself into a mess. It's amazing how small the world seemed back then. When going downtown for lunch with his mom and a few friends was the best part of his week.

"So, how are you, Jean?" His father asked him.

"I'm fine. I'm not the one in the hospital."

"Then how is Marco?" His mother asked sympathetically, sitting next to his father.

"He's alive. But he's in a coma. I'd rather not talk about it, though," Jean snapped. He didn't originally plan of snapping. It just happened.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," his father said. "Those doctors know what they're doing."

"We know how much Marco means to you, Jean," his mother said gently.

"I don't think you do."

They both gave him questioning looks.

"Marco means more to me than anything. I love him." He stared at his parents, his heart beating fast. He was terrified of what their reactions would be.

They didn't say anything for quite a while, but their faces said it all. His mom looked worried and confused, but his dad looked angry.

"You what?" His father seethed.

His mother stood up quickly. "Oh, I'm sure he doesn't mean it like that. You know the younger generation, and how close they are with their friends..."

"No, mom, I love him. We go on dates, and hold hands, and even kiss."

He wasn't sure why he said all those things. He could have left it at 'I love him'. Perhaps he just wanted to make them angry. To prove a point.

His mother just nodded slowly. "It was that boy who picked you up, then? And had dinner with us? Well... He was very nice. Wasn't he nice?" She looked to Jean's father. Jean was actually thankful for how well she was taking it. She probably never imagined her son would come out as gay, but she was trying to make the best of it.

But his father was furious. He stood up quickly, ignoring Jean's mother's words. "What the hell do you mean?! You are _not_ going to date a man!"

"Honey, please..." His mother reached out her hand to her husband. "This really isn't the time-"

But his father wouldn't listen. He stormed out of the room, slamming a couple of doors on the way. All that was left was silence.

That went significantly better than Jean thought it would. His father didn't hit him. He didn't lecture him too much. And he wasn't disowned from the family, as far as he knew.

He expected his mom to go after his dad, but she didn't. She sat next to Jean, making him quite worried about what she was going to do.

"I suppose a boy dating a boy isn't exactly orthodox... Especially in my generation... But..." She smiled gently and put her hand on Jean's arm. He actually didn't mind it. "Things are different today."

His mother was always a bit annoying in that way. She always tried to get in on the hip, new trends and technology. Usually it just ended in her failing and Jean being embarrassed, but for once he was actually thankful.

"So... You don't care that I'm gay?" He asked, taking a peek at her face. Her eyes were gentle, and she was smiling softly.

"No. People have been gay for hundreds of years. I think it's about time they gain their acceptance with society. Don't you think?"

Jean couldn't help but take a second to imagine a normal life with Marco. As though they were boyfriends and girlfriend, or husband and wife. Buying a nice home together. Being greeted by new neighbors. Raising a kid.

Jean actually didn't like kids all that much; they were often loud and gross and smelly, and costed lots of money. And the end result? They usually just became teens that resented their parents. But it was just the _thought_ that he and Marco could adopt without being second on the list to straight couples.

"Your father may not approve," his mother continued. "But I'm sure he'll accept it over time." She looked down for a moment, seeming slightly disappointed. "I did always dream you'd have a big wedding some day, though. And your father and I would offer to help pay, and your bride would get a huge, princess gown..."

Jean always sort of imagined that, too. But not anymore.

"Maybe you can still have a big wedding," she suddenly suggested. "And we'll still pay for a good portion. And if you two need help getting a home together, just let me know."

"Well, Marco's parents are pretty wealthy, so they'll probably help with the cost, too- I mean, no! Mom!" Jean snapped out of his fantasy thoughts, becoming flustered. "I don't even know if I'm going to marry him..."

His mom just smiled again, seeing how embarrassed he was. "Right. Of course. But it's never too early to start planning ahead."

Jean just covered his face, hiding his scarlet cheeks. But he was actually happy. It was like he finally wasn't hiding from his parents. Growing up, you always hide things from parents. Bad report cards, sneaking cookies before dinner, girlfriends, little bits of alcohol and cigarettes... And now he had finally been truthful about something. And it actually went okay.

* * *

Ashton had already gone home by the time Jean got the call. It was early Tuesday morning, and Jean was in his writing class. His phone was on silent. It had been all morning, since he turned it off late last night. Ashton had kept calling him, drunk as hell and thinking he was being funny. When Jean woke up the next morning, he was tired, and didn't even remember he had his phone on silent. He showered, got dressed, and went to his early morning classes.

He finished taking notes in his first class, and finally the professor dismissed them. About time, too. The lecture that day was extra long and extra boring. He began to trek back to his dorm, his bag heavy on his back. He thought about getting a bike all of the time; the main way of transportation in this University was by bike. However, he always just put it off, convincing himself that he could just walk.

Jean pulled out his phone finally. The screen was still lighting up, having just received a message seconds ago. He scrolled quickly, just skimming the texts.

**_Bertholdt 9:47_ **

_Jean?_

**_9:35_ **

_Tell me if you decide to come._

**_9:30_ **

_He asked about you._

**_9:12_ **

_It's a bit busy at the moment. Only so many visitors allowed, and everyone came down._

**_Missed call 8:53 Bertholdt_ **

**_Missed call 8:23 (3) Reiner_ **

**_Reiner 8:20_ **

_Are you coming??_

**_Bertholdt 8:16_ **

_I hope you get my messages soon!!_

**_8:09_ **

_Then again, no one was suspecting it._ ****

**_8:09_ **

_The doctors weren't expecting it at all._

**_7:50_ **

_I just got here. Reiner, too._

**_7:22_ **

_I'm leaving now! Get there soon!_

**_7:17_ **

_Jean, I got a call from the hospital. Marco is awake!_

Jean wasn't sure how to react. He stopped in place, his stomach feeling heavy and his breath hitching in his throat. He had to re-read the messages, just to make sure this was really happening. And then he walked as fast as he could to where his truck was parked, practically running.

All he could think of was Marco waking up, scared, in pain, and possibly even alone in the room. Jean wished terribly he could have been there. He wished his face would have been the first Marco saw. But now, almost three hours later, Jean was certain Marco had seen every family member, friend, and next door neighbor.

It was another thirty minutes, and seemingly the longest drive of Jean's life, before he arrived at the hospital, quickly asking for Marco's location. He didn't want to seem in a hurry, and overflowing with anxiety and excitement both, but he couldn't steady his breathing, and he couldn't stand still for more than a couple of seconds.

So many people were in the waiting room, and so many for Marco. His family members were closer to Marco's parents, while his friends tended to have their own group.

"Jean!"

Reiner and Bertholdt both stood up when they saw him. Connie was there, and even Sasha and Armin.

"I-I'm so sorry, I had my phone turned off." Jean didn't go into detail. He didn't care to waste time to explain any more. "How is he? Is he still awake?"

"He's a lot better!" Bertholdt said, a small smile on his face. "He's also really tired, though, with everyone going in and out. But I think he should wake up soon and be ready for a visitor."

A faint smile crossed Jean's lips. "I'm so glad..." Then he glanced around the room. He saw people that looked like Marco's grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and a few that looked young enough to be his cousins. "Will I be able to see him, though? There are so many family members here..."

"Of course. They've all had their turn. Here, let's ask Mr. and Mrs. Bodt if you can see him next," Reiner suggested. Leave it to him to take charge and just ask something as bold as that.

Mr. and Mrs. Bodt recognized Jean. They looked a lot happier, but still tired and worried. They smiled faintly when they saw Jean.

"Jean," his mother greeted. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

"You were?"

"Of course. Aside from us, you're the one who's stayed by Marco's side the most throughout all of this."

It made Jean so happy that they'd noticed. That they'd realized just how much Jean cared about Marco, even though they were just friends. Or had they figured it out by now? They knew Marco was gay, so would they be more accepting than Jean's own parents?

"He asked about you, too," Mr. Bodt added. "Comes out of a coma and the first thing on his mind is his college buddy... I'm not surprised, though. He's always prized his friends."

"Jean was hoping he could see Marco next," Reiner spoke up.

"Oh, of course," Marco's mother said.

It was also strange seeing his parents so kind. Jean didn't doubt they were kind, loving people, of course, especially when it came to their son. He'd just never seen them this way before.

"Thank you so much," Jean said sincerely. He gave them both a smile before returning with Reiner to the others. "When do you think I can go?" Jean asked. "Did they give you a certain time? Or is it just whenever he wakes up?"

"Calm down..." Reiner sighed. "It's whenever he wakes up. He can't sleep all day, though."

Jean obeyed, and forced himself to calm down. He sat in one of the chairs. He scrolled on his phone. He texted Ashton the good news. He even picked up a nearby magazine, and took a quiz to determine what kind of woman he was.

The strong-willed type.

He even took a ten minute trip to the nearby convenience store to get Marco a small gift he wanted to get something other than flowers. Flowers were just so ordinary, right?

His mind was overwhelmed by thoughts, but he still picked out a small stuffed teddy bear and a bag of Marco's favorite chips.

 _Oh my God_ , he thought, walking to the check-out. _I am officially the worst gift-buyer ever._

He went back to the hospital after that and, thankfully, there was good news.

"Marco has woken up. He said he can take a couple of visitors."

Jean looked up. He felt like he was looking into the eyes of an angel. A nurse was before him and, while she just looked like a nurse, and not an angel of any sort, she was bearing news he'd been waiting a long time to hear. He stood up quickly, and began to feel nervous as the nurse began to lead him to Marco's room. How was Marco? Especially after where they left off? Would they talk about that, at all? That passionate kiss? Or was that in the past, and this crash was now the most important thing? Figuring out Marco's future. His extra year of college to make up, his physical therapy, just getting better in general...

"Here it is. Please let me know if you need anything," the nurse said with a smile, showing him to Marco's room.

He smiled lightly, but couldn't find any words to say in return. So he just choked out a small "K" and stepped inside.

Marco was sitting up slightly. His eyes were open. His hands were moving. His hair looked clean, like it was recently washed, and the sounds of steady, healthy beeping came from the heart monitor beside him. At one point, Jean was unsure if he'd ever see this day. He thought, when Marco was at his worst, only breathing with the help of the machine, that things would never get better.

Jean was already crying, and Marco was just noticing his guest.

His eyes widened as they landed on Jean, and he smiled brightly, his entire face lighting up.

"Jean!"

Jean walked quickly to the hospital bed, his vision badly blurred, and he pulled up a chair. He wasn't sure if he could touch Marco, so he fought to keep his hands to himself. He placed his gifts by Marco's side. "I-I'm sorry. I wanted to get you something original, and... and not something like flowers, but..." He looked around the room, and saw a lot less flowers than expected. There were cards, and some books, and a huge stuffed dog. "I guess others had the same idea."

"Oh, Jean, I love it," he said, his voice both gentle and strained. As though he hadn't spoken in quite a while. "And I'll be sure to ask my nurse when I can eat these chips. I'm craving them _so_ badly."

Jean smiled weakly, nodding. "I'm really h-happy to see you."

"Jean... Come here," Marco said softly, opening his arms. Or, one of his arms. The other was still tightly wrapped in a cast.

"Aren't you in pain?"

"No. Well, yes. But I don't care."

Jean quickly leaned forward, putting his arm around Marco's good side, and resting his head in the crook of the boy's neck. He already smelled a bit like himself again, even though he also smelled of hospital. Hospital clothing, hospital soap, and hospital hand sanitizer.

Jean realized that Marco was crying, too. And, with his good arm, he was gripping Jean tighter than he ever had before.

"I-I thought you were going to die," Jean murmured, loving the feeling of Marco's warm skin against his. His skin was full of color, and warm, and he looked well-rested. Jean became thankful he pulled up the chair, because his body felt weak.

Marco pulled away slightly, only to wrap his arm around Jean's neck and guide him closer. He kissed Jean for quite a long time before finally pulling away. "Don't talk like that..."

"I'm sorry... I just... You don't understand. I was so scared. We all were. You could have been gone forever before we ever got to do everything," Jean said.

"Everything?" Marco asked.

"Yeah. There are so many things we haven't done. Like... I've never been camping with you. Or gone to a music festival. We've never spent a Valentine's day together. And I... I've never told you how much you mean to me."

Marco seemed surprised. He didn't speak. And then he just smiled. It was a happy smile, but it was also a bit of a mocking smile. As if to say, 'Oh, Jean, you're just adorable'.

Jean felt his cheeks heat up.

"Oh, you're blushing... I've missed seeing you blush. Can you imagine if I never got to see it again?"

"Marco!"

"Polo?"

Jean blinked, staring at his friend. He couldn't believe that _this_ was their reunion. It was sad and cute and first, but then turned into how their everyday conversation would go.

"I can't believe you," Jean grumbled, laughing softly.

Marco reached out and wiped away Jean's remaining tears, a normal smile now on his face. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to see you cry. And I also thought, what if I'd never gotten the chance to use that joke? So I'm using it now. Please don't cry anymore."

"I-" Jean lowered his head, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry. I can't help it." With tears still streaming down his cheeks, he rested his forehead on the edge of the hospital bed. But he was so, so happy.

* * *

Marco was in pain. He was in physical pain, of course, since his aching body was bruised and cut, and his right arm and leg were in terrible condition. The only thing keeping him doing so well was all of the pain medication he was on.

But other than the physical pain, it emotionally pained him to see Jean so distraught. It sucked being in a car crash. It sucked to have to undergo surgery and possibly lose two of his limbs, but... he was in a coma the entire time. His friends and family were awake, and having to deal with the thought of him never waking up. It affected them badly.

And now Jean was here (although he was rather late...), practically sobbing near Marco's lap. It was okay that he was crying, though. If their roles were swapped, and Jean was the one who nearly died...

Marco couldn't even bear to think of that happening.

He put his hand on Jean's head, gently rubbing his fingers through the boy's hair. Marco whispered comforting words to Jean until he could compose himself. And then he had to get answers.

He held Jean's hand tightly, staring at his face. He looked tired, and his eyes were red and puffy, but Marco didn't love him any less. At this point, he just loved Jean even more.

"So, um... How is this going down? When can you be released?" Jean asked.

"I don't know... It won't be too long, I think, as long as I go back home and my parents can take care of me," Marco admitted.

Marco saw the disappointment wash over Jean's face. He was so raw and damaged that he couldn't even hide his emotions.

"Home, huh? Well, I guess that isn't too far away..."

"Well, you can stay for long periods of time. We have a guest room." Marco smiled widely. "And my bed."

Jean laughed gently. "Yeah... I guess we can make this work."

Marco smiled, silent for a moment, and bit his lower lip. "Can I ask you something? And I don't mean what I'm going to say in a rude way," Marco said.

"Yeah... Sure."

"What took you so long to visit?"

Jean frowned lightly. "I'm sorry... It's my fault. I turned off my phone last night and forgot to turn it back on." He shook his head, letting out a small scoff. "The one day I decided to turn it off, and this is what happens..."

"It's okay," Marco assured him, smiling lightly. "I was just curious. I... I kind of thought maybe you didn't want to see me. I don't know."

He watched as Jean's fingers moved over his hand, stroking his skin. But he stopped as he heard Marco's words.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I want to see you?" Jean asked, furrowing his brow. He stared at Marco seriously.

"Well, you know, because I almost lost two of my limbs. I just thought maybe you didn't want to deal with someone like me."

"Marco."

"I won't be able to live normally for probably a whole year. I won't be able to finish college-"

"I don't-"

"Or even get a decent job, or do much of anything-"

Jean grabbed Marco's hand, a little more roughly than before, moving his face close. "Marco. Shut up. Please." His voice was firm but gentle. "I'm not going to leave you over this. You're... You're the most amazing person I've ever had the chance to meet. _You're_ the one who's going to have to get rid of _me_."

All Marco could do was stare at him, wide eyed. Then his lips turned up into an involuntary smile. "I don't want to get rid of you."

Jean smiled in return, his cool eyes never leaving Marco's face.

Neither of them had to say the words. They were both thinking them. Jean cupped Marco's cheeks tenderly, and they shared a long kiss.

_I love you._

_I love you, too._


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Marco held the pencil in his hand, letting it rest where it felt most natural. But Jean could tell that no position felt natural at all.

All throughout the past week, Marco remained mostly positive. He was healing wonderfully, his health rising and his bruises fading. Under his cast, his arm was healing, too. His stitches would be taken out next week, but he could still move his arm a little bit each day. His leg was worse, though, with his bones broken. But it didn't matter that his leg had to be kept in a cast. All that mattered was that he didn't end up having to lose his limbs.

He tried really hard every day to do his physical therapy. They started him out doing very small things. Walking with the help of nurses, stretching so that he didn't grow stiff, and writing with his right hand.

The only time Jean saw him without a smile on his face was when they started to take him off morphine, and he was in pain. Not only that, but he was both tired and restless. It was hard to understand how those two could go together, but they somehow did for Marco.

He had been sitting silently, chewing on his lower lip, until he couldn't take it anymore. It seemed to be so sudden, but his emotions had been brewing inside of him for so long that they were well overdue.

"I hate this," he had mumbled, tears flowing steadily from his eyes, down his cheeks. "I hate being here, I hate being in pain, I hate missing school."

All Jean could think to do was comfort Marco. So he'd wiped his tears, got him some water, and spoke comforting words until the poor boy was all tuckered out.

"I know you hate it," Jean had whispered, tucking Marco under his blankets. He planted a kiss on the brunet's forehead. "It'll be over soon, though. I promise."

Thinking about that day make Jean feel sorry for Marco. But, ever since then, Marco had been really positive.

Jean looked back to his fiend. He had a notepad in front of him, and was practicing writing his sentences; a physical therapy exercise. However, he wasn't doing very well. His hand shook, and didn't grasp the pencil very tightly at all.

"Does it hurt?" Jean asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

Marco sat down the pencil, letting his hand relax. "A little... I'm actually really tired."

Although he was getting a lot better, he was often tired. But the doctors assured us that, while he was getting better, sleeping a lot was just helping.

"Okay, well you should probably take a nap, then." Jean took away the pencil and notepad for Marco. "When do you want me to come back?"

Marco adjusted himself until he was lying down. He complained constantly about not being comfortable, since he couldn't sleep on his side. "I don't want to sleep for too long," he admitted. "Especially since you came out here to visit me."

"Don't worry about it. You need anything?" Jean stood, stretching his arms above his head lightly.

"Yeah..." Marco frowned gently, staring out the window in his room. The sky was bright, and the weather warm. Jean knew he'd have to talk to the doctors about taking Marco outside soon.

"What?"

"To get better. To go back to college. And to actually be your boyfriend."

Raising his eyebrow, Jean sat back in the chair next to the hospital bed. "What do you mean? I consider you to be my boyfriend."

"But we can't do relationship things. We can't go on dates, or cuddle, or... you know..."

Jean felt his cheeks heat up, and he just nodded. "Yeah, I get what you're trying to say..."

With Marco being in the hospital, Jean had a lot of time to think about how his and Marco's relationship would be like. Of course he worried about some things. And, to put it not-so-subtly, he worried about the sex. He'd talked to Marco about it briefly before, but he still couldn't help but be nervous. A part of him just wanted to get it over with. But, at the same time, he was thankful he would have time to prepare while Marco recovered.

"Do you even _want_ to do it?" Marco asked softly.

"Of course I do," Jean quickly replied. He squeezed Marco's hand gently. "But... I'm kind of scared to, you know?" His cheeks still burned. He hated talking about it in front of Marco, who was already very experienced in sex between two males. Jean thought his awkward, unknowing sex days were over, when he first lost his virginity his senior year in high school. (He didn't particularly have a good time when he lost his virginity, either. The girl wasn't that great. He certainly didn't have feelings for her. He kind of just wanted to get the whole thing over with.) But no. With this, he was practically a virgin all over again.

He also hated admitting that he was scared in general. But that didn't seem to make Marco think less of him in any way.

"You know I won't hurt you, right?" Marco sat up lightly in bed.

"I thought you said you were tired?"

"I am. But this is important. We need to discuss this," he argued. "It's okay to be scared, since it's something you've never done before. But just know I'll be gentle with you. And you'll like it, I promise."

Jean just nodded, glancing away. "Yeah... I believe you..."

Marco chuckled, and pulled Jean closer, kissing the tip of his nose. Wrapping his arms around Jean's neck, Marco's lips trailed along his jawline, down to his neck.

"M-Marco-!"

Marco chuckled lightly, his lips near Jean's ear. It sent shivers down Jean's spine. "And, you know, maybe someday we can switch. How would you like to be on top?"

Jean pulled away, standing up. He was blushing far too wildly. And he also didn't want to think such inappropriate thoughts in a _hospital_ , where someone could walk in at any moment.

"Oh my God, Marco. I love you, but save that sort of talk for later..."

"Right, sorry, you're right. I'm just... I'm restless. I haven't left this place in weeks," Marco sighed. He laid back down finally, attempting to get comfortable again. The light from the window was shining onto the room, and brightened his olive skin attractively.

"I know... Just, please be patient. It's just two more days, right? Then you get to go home?" Jean took the liberty of closing the curtains. Despite how nice the sun made Marco look, it wouldn't help him sleep.

"Yeah..."

"I promise, you'll be out of here before you know it. Now go to sleep, alright? I'll be back later tonight. Bert and Reiner are coming with me, too," Jean said.

Marco's face lit up. "Ooh, can you guys sneak in something? I don't even care what it is. A granola bar. Something. The food here _sucks_."

"We'll see..." Jean sighed gently. Only Marco could convince him to break rules over a little granola bar. "See you soon."

"See you!"

Jean ruffled Marco's hair gently and planted a kiss on his forehead. That made the boy smile even wider. It made Jean's heart skip a beat. He thought about staying there with Marco, just to be with him longer, but he knew Marco needed sleep.

Jean shut off the light before leaving, softly closing the door behind him. And when the door shut, all of his responsibilities and problems in the world seemed to hit him at once. In Marco's recovery room, all that mattered was the freckled boy lying in bed. But out here, it was like Marco no longer existed. He was no longer enrolled at the university. Jean had helped Marco's parents move all of his things out of their dorm. Out here, Jean had classes he was barely passing and next to no social life since he spent all of his spare time at the hospital.

But... Marco was worth it. Right?

* * *

Reiner and Bert took a seat close to Marco's bed, but left the closest seat for Jean. He thought that was rather nice of them.

Marco didn't even seem to care that they were in front of their friends. He pressed the button at his side to sit up, and took one of Jean's hands. He had a smile on his face, as though it has been weeks since he'd seen his friend and not mere hours.

"Did you bring me some food?"

"You know I can't, Marco."

"My mom brought me an apple juice yesterday. The nurses were okay with that." Marco squeezed Jean's hand. "It won't kill me or anything."

Jean rolled his eyes and sighed. Then he pulled out a chocolate chip granola bar from his pocket and tossed it into Marco's lap. "Fine. There. But don't tell anyone, okay?"

"You're the best!"

As Marco began to eat his granola bar, he struck up conversation with Bert and Reiner. Jean was happy just smiling and listening. Marco still held Jean's hand as he talked, as though he wanted Jean to still be on his mind while he talked to others.

"You haven't told me about Krista," Marco noticed, speaking to Reiner. "How is she?"

Reiner smiled slightly, looking a little nervous. "I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't been by the café. I've been, uh... preoccupied." He sent a mischievous glance to Bertholdt, smiling. Bertholdt, in return, glanced to the floor. But his soft smile and pink cheeks told his true feelings. Marco took a moment to glance at Jean. They spoke with their expressions alone.

_Something totally happened between them._

Jean never really thought something like that would actually happen between Reiner and Bert. But... as he observed their blushing cheeks, fleeting glances, and knees brushing against each other... He thought back to when he and Marco were still in that awkward, unsure stage.

 _Oh, who am I kidding?_ Jean thought. _We're still in that stage. But we're enjoying it._

Marco finished his granola bar, a happy smile on his face, and Jean took the wrapper for him. He decided to just put it in his pocket and throw it away later.

"I'll be right back," Jean suddenly said, standing up. Marco tugged on his hand, a questioning look on his face. "I haven't visited Tate yet..." Jean explained.

Marco's brow furrowed lightly. He'd already gotten the chance to talk to Tate, and he told Jean all about it. Tate was affected the most. Not physically, but mentally. All he could do the first time he saw Marco was cry and apologize. Cry, apologize, cry, apologize again, and cry _while_ apologizing.

"Be nice to him, okay?"

"Mhm."

" _Jean_."

" _Okay_ , okay. Don't worry so much." He squeezed Marco's hand one last time before letting go, and leaving the room.

He didn't really want to talk to Tate. There wasn't really a reason to. At first, when Marco was still unconscious, Jean would have loved to give Tate a stern lecture. Shout a little. Blow some steam. But he knew it wasn't Tate's fault. It wasn't really anyone's fault. It was all the rain.

Tate was scheduled to leave the next day, so it was Jean's last chance to actually talk to him. When he entered the room, Tate was on his phone. The first thing Jean recognized was his candy-apple green eyes, full of youth and a yearning for adventure. When he looked at Tate now, he surprisingly felt no anger. Not like he used to, at least, when Tate and Marco were dating. 

Tate looked up from his phone, and his eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, Jean thought he looked scared.

"How ya holding up?" Jean asked, breaking the tense silence that filled the room.

Tate licked his lips slightly. His left eye was still slightly bruised, and his arm was in a sling. But other than that, he looked fine. "I'm okay," he answered. His voice wavered a bit. "Listen, I... I'm really sorry."

"For what? The crash?"

"Well, yes. But not just that. I didn't realize how much you liked Marco. Hell..." Tate shook his head lightly. "I didn't even realize you were gay."

Shrugging, Jean moved closer to Tate's bed, taking a seat in the chair next to him. "Neither did I."

"But, still. I was a real jerk to Marco. I just wish maybe I had ended things between us sooner, instead of leading him on. Maybe this whole accident wouldn't have happened then..."

"It doesn't do any good to blame yourself," Jean replied sternly. He wasn't sure how he was able to hold himself together so well, and give such advice. Especially since he once held far too much anger and sadness when it came to talking about the accident. "It happened. But no lives were lost. That's the important part."

"Yeah." Tate looked down at his hands, clearly still feeling guilty about the whole thing. But he would probably feel guilty for a very long time.

"Anyway, I don't know if I'll see you for a while. If I'll see you at all. So I just wanted to stop by to let you know I'm not angry or anything." Jean smiled lightly. "No hard feelings."

"I'm glad," Tate admitted. "To be honest, I thought you would be mad..." A small smile crossed his face. "Thanks, Jean. And... Be good to Marco, okay?"

"I will."

His smiled widened. "Good. He deserves someone like you. Someone who really loves him."

Jean couldn't help but agree. He wasn't sure if he was the best person in the world for Marco, but he did know he wanted to be the only one for him. And, as terrible as it sounded, it felt good that he no longer had to worry about an obstacle like Tate. Marco was his, and only his. 


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Marco was overwhelmed with joy when he was pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair. He wanted to be up on his feet and using his crutches, but it was hospital policy. And he probably wouldn't have made it all of the way to the car, anyway.

Marco turned around in his chair before they even made it to the parking lot, looking to his parents.

"Jean can come with us, right? Until the weekend is over?"

Jean felt himself blush. He didn't really feel comfortable with Marco asking something that big without even talking to him first.

"Well... If that's what you want," his mother replied.

"We can stop by your dorm so you can pack a bag," Marco said, now turning to Jean.

"As long as it isn't an inconvenience..."

"It isn't!" He smiled widely. Seeing him so happy made Jean's heart flutter.

With some assistance, Marco got into his parents' car, buckled in safely and a blanket over his lap. He insisted he was fine, but his mother worried he may get cold.

As his parents packed things into the trunk, Jean got in the back, buckling himself in.

"Are you still okay with driving in cars and all?" He asked softly, looking into Marco's warm eyes.

"Yeah... I mean, it was an accident. It doesn't give me nightmares or flashbacks or anything."

"Okay."

Jean let his hand slide along the seat until it found Marco's. He didn't want to be holding his hand so obviously that Marco's parents could see, but he still wanted to be close to him. It was amazing for him to think that, at one point, they weren't even sure if Marco would live. But he was here, alive, smiling, sitting up, walking. Going home.

"I think I kind of liked being in the hospital," Marco suddenly spoke up.

"What? Why?"

"Well, it hurt like hell, but... You're always staring at me now, ever since... what happened. In a good way, of course. I don't know, I just... Feel loved." He shrugged his shoulders lightly, glancing away. He had a thing about talking about the accident for too long. It wasn't that it gave him bad memories, since he hardly remembered the moments before it happened, but he felt guilty for making everyone worry.

Jean felt his cheeks heat up, and he clung to Marco's hand tightly. "Because you are loved..."

Marco smiled happily, a small amount of color coming to his cheeks.

Jean still had things he wanted to talk to Marco about. Things he didn't get to say in the hospital because others were around, or there were other things that needed talking about first. But before he could bring them up, Marco's parents got into the car, and they were soon starting their journey to Washington. Jean stopped by his dorm to pack a quick bag.

Marco's parents were surprisingly talkative. (His mom more than his dad. His mom reminded Jean of Marco in the way that they both always had something to talk about. His dad was more quiet, yet was just as kind as his son.) Marco said before that they used to be like that all of the time. Before they took on bigger jobs. Before he got into high school. And they treated Jean just as well as they treated Marco. They asked him questions. When they all stopped at a store to get some drinks and snacks for the road, they bought both Jean and Marco a soda and a burrito each. And Jean was really grateful for them. He almost felt as though he didn't deserve all of their kindness, but they always insisted.

The two adults going into the store left the two boys in the car alone. Marco reached for Jean's hand and held it. It seemed that they were always touching now, even if only slightly, and Jean loved it. Just the slight brush of Marco's fingers over his wrist said a thousand words. He looked down at Marco's tan hand, with his long, slender fingers, and saw some cuts still healing from shattered glass.

"I have a somewhat funny, somewhat embarrassing story," Jean said.

"Do tell," Marco replied with a smirk, his full attention suddenly on Jean.

"I guess it's also kind of a big deal. And I can't believe I haven't told you yet. But... I came out to my parents when you were in the coma."

"Seriously?" His smile disappeared, and he looked genuinely surprised. "You should have told me! What happened?"

"I just told them that you meant a lot to me. I wasn't really planning on going any further than that," Jean admitted with a shrug. "But I can't keep my mouth shut. I told them I had feelings for you."

"And?"

"My dad was pissed. But my mom took it well. And she started pre-planning our wedding."

Then Marco began to laugh. It came as a huge relief to Jean; to hear his friend laugh and to see him outside of a hospital environment. To see him heading home, packed somewhat-comfortably in a car, with his leg stiff and still in a cast, propped up so that it was nearly over Jean's legs.

"Oh, I'm glad," he said with a smile. "I was wanting to get a woman's perspective, anyway. She'll be sure to choose the right flowers, and complimenting colors..."

Jean just rolled his eyes, a smirk on his lips. "Idiot," he mumbled with a laugh. "I know you were joking, but we shouldn't think that far ahead..."

"I like thinking far ahead."

"It usually just makes people disappointed."

"Not me," Marco answered. "Not when it comes to us. I have a feeling about us, Jean."

Jean didn't know what to say. He wanted to think Marco was right about their relationship. So all he did was ruffle the boy's dark hair affectionately and call him a dork. Followed by a soft, "I love you, though."

Marco laughed, grinning like a child when Jean patted his head. "I love you, too."

Marco's parents returned with their snacks, and the two boys practically jumped away from one another, as if they were teenagers on a date and a parent walked into the room unannounced. Sometimes they forgot that they were adults, and their parents were okay with their relationship. But that little bit of secrecy added a sort of excitement to their lives. Not that they really needed it. They had enough excitement in their lives just by being with each other. 

* * *

Marco's house was still grand and elegant and huge. Even when it wasn't covered with a blanket of delicate snow. Jean actually had fun there, even if Marco had to go everywhere in a wheelchair. It was hard getting him down the stairs. Sometimes Marco's parents would go to work, advising them to stay upstairs until they returned, but Marco would beg and plead and be on the verge of tears until he got his way. He just wanted to be outside, and be with Jean. 

Jean could tell he was a little teensy-bit tired of his parents always being by his side. Sometimes was great. But too much was too much. 

Jean struggled to help Marco down the stairs after he got the wheelchair down. He gripped Marco's waist as securely as he could without hurting him. His entire body was still tender, after all, and he wasn't allowed to take pain medication anymore. 

"Sorry this is such a pain," Marco said as they finally reached the last step, and he was lowered into his chair. Jean was breathing sort of heavily, but he tried to play it off as though he was totally okay with practically carrying a boy taller than he was down a flight of stairs. 

"It's... It's okay," he said, forcing a small smile. But it was the truth. It was okay. Anything for Marco was okay. 

He pushed Marco outside, and finally stopped on the grass. He pushed Marco out a ways, but didn't go very far in fear the wheelchair would get stuck. Then he helped Marco to sit on the grass. 

"You're literally the perfect boyfriend," Marco said with a smile, moving close to Jean on his good side. 

Jean put his arm around Marco. "Am I? Because I was under the impression that  _you_  were the perfect boyfriend." he cringed slightly at his words. He wasn't good at being sappy and romantic. And he wasn't afraid to admit it. But Marco held enough sap and romance for the both of them. 

"No, it's definitely you," Marco replied with a smile. He looked at Jean with his warm eyes before leaning in to kiss him. The sun shone down upon them perfectly, creating a temperature that wasn't too hot or too cold. And it created a perfect lighting to make Marco's skin look as golden as honey, and bring out his detailed freckles. Jean almost hated to close his eyes as they kissed, because he still wasn't finished taking in the beautiful sight. It was times like that that he wanted to have his camera around, just to capture these moments. Just to capture how happy they were. But he knew life was better lived through one's own eyes than through a camera lens. 

It was sometimes weird to stop and think about his life, and how much has happened just in the last year. He met his best friend. He made two other friends. He learned to depend on others. And he learned that he liked boys. 

Not only that, but he came out to his parents, and they didn't totally disown him. He kissed his high school buddy in a hotel room. And, of course, regretted it afterwards. 

Marco survived what was- hopefully- the biggest and worst moment of his life. He sometimes hated not knowing how Marco was doing. But the dark-haired boy only vented when he absolutely needed to. Jean had no idea how sad, if at all, he felt after he and Tate broke up. Marco always kept a smile on his face in the hospital, so no once could see his pain. 

"Whatcha thinking about?" Marco asked suddenly, a soft smile on his face. 

"A lot of things," he admitted, squinting as he stared at the bright sky. "When we first met. Ice skating. The accident. The year in general. And the fact that it's almost summer."

Marco stayed silent for a moment, his eyes watching Jean. Jean glanced away, feeling uncomfortable under his stare, but didn't say anything. 

"I think that's one of the first times you've actually told me what's on your mind."

"Huh. I guess it is, isn't it?"

Marco nodded, and they both fell silent for a moment. "Well don't stop," he suddenly said. "Anything else on your mind?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I'm just wondering what I ever did before I met you."

"I know what you mean. It's like... I thought I was in love with some of the guys I've dated before. But..." Marco paused, as if thinking. "I don't know. For you I have even stronger feelings."

"Like everyone in the world falls in love, but what we have is even stronger. Different, but better," Jean offered. He wasn't sure where he got those words. But it was the only way he could think to explain how Marco made him feel. Safe. Comfortable. Forcing him to step out of his comfort zone. Making him feel  _alive_. Like, before Marco was just the prologue to his life. Preparing him for the happiness, the love, and even the pain that was to come. 

"Seriously," Marco started, "who are you and what have you done with Jean?"

Jean rolled his eyes in return, scowling playfully. "Shut up. This is why I don't say cute things very often."

"I know, I'm sorry," he laughed. "I know how you feel. I wish there was a word to describe what I feel towards you... A stronger word. Stronger than love."

"Yeah."

"Let's make our own word," Marco decided, suddenly grinning. "A word stronger than love. Blap. I blap you, Jean."

"I hate you so much," Jean said with a laugh, shaking his head. 

"And by hate, you mean 'blap', right?"

"Yes. I'm in blap with you, Marco Bodt."

"And I, you, Jean Kirschtein."   
  


 


	24. Chapter 24

A year passed. During Jean's senior and final year in college, Marco picked up where he left off on his junior year. The year seemed to go slowly, but it was filled with such progress. Marco's casts were taken off, and he was up and walking, and soon he no longer felt any aches or pains in his body at all. Everything had started to go back to normal, as though the crash didn't happen. Marco and Tate didn't get in touch very often after they mutually broke things off, but Marco didn't mind much. He had Jean.

With acceptance from their families and friends, their relationship blossomed. Jean visited Marco at his home every weekend until they both started university again in the fall, and they got a dorm together once again.

Some days it was difficult. Some days Marco's leg would for some reason hurt, and he would miss a few classes. Jean would always do his best to help him catch up. Some days they disagreed over tiny things, which would turn into big fights.

They also had their embarrassing moments. Like when they first opened up about their relationship and Connie and Sasha had to stand up on a table at a party to give a big speech, like it was Jean and Marco's wedding. Or that other time when the two of them stayed alone at Marco's for a weekend, and Jean finally decided he was comfortable enough to finally have sex. It was awkward, and slow, and it didn't last very long, but it was a big accomplishment for them.

But, most importantly, there were many, many happy moments. Jean picked up his photography again. Right around the crash and during Marco's recovery, he didn't even think about picking up a camera. How could he? He couldn't see any light or happiness before Marco woke up, and afterwards, Marco was the only light and happiness he saw. He was all Jean cared about.

As soon as Marco could walk without the assistance of crutches, he wanted to go everywhere. Every spare moment they had, he was dragging Jean out to go somewhere else. But Jean didn't mind.

Now it was the end of Jean's senior year. The very end. It was his graduation day.

The sun was warm on his skin as he held his degree in his hand. It was a bit of a relief to actually have something physical to hold for all of the hard work he did. And it was really nice to actually know where he was going from there. He'd gotten an internship at a magazine in the photography section. Yeah, he'd probably spend his first few months serving coffee, but it was a start.

Jean jumped lightly as he was suddenly hugged from behind, and he smiled as they spoke, recognizing the voice.

"I'm so proud of you, Jean."

He turned around to see tan skin, gentle freckles, and dark hair. Jean hugged his boyfriend tightly, overjoyed, but he also felt a bit of guilt tug at his heart.

"I'm sorry we couldn't graduate together," he murmured, gripping Marco's jacket with his fingers.

Marco pulled way slightly; only far enough to look at Jean's face. "It's okay, Jean. We spent two years of college together. We're hopefully going to spend several more years together. What's one little graduation day?" He asked with a smile. "Not that it's a little day for you. It's a huge day. But you know what I mean."

Jean nodded in return. He let his hands hold Marco's. There were still scars on his forearm, lighter than the rest of his tan skin, forever a reminder of the incident. Jean's fingers lingered over the marks for a while, catching Marco's attention. Marco hated his scars. Of course, who doesn't hate scars and imperfections on their body? But Jean treated the scars as though they were his favorite things about his boyfriend. He was always planting kisses on them, tracing his finger along them, and always always telling Marco he was being ridiculous when he fretted over how he looked because of the marks.

He hugged Marco once more. "I love you so much."

Marco pressed his lips against Jean's cheek for a moment. "I love you, too." Their word for a feeling more than love never stuck. Whenever they said it they just ended up laughing and not sounding very sincere.

They had to take so many pictures after that. Jean had to pose with Marco, with his parents, with his parents again, with Connie, Sasha, Armin, Eren, and Mikasa. Reiner and Bertholdt came as well, both of them saying they never believed they'd come back to that place. And then Jean went back to Marco, tired of pictures, but his parents continued to take pictures of the couple. Anywhere Jean was, their little silver 2011 camera followed.

"Hey," Jean said, letting his fingers entwine with Marco's. "What are we gonna do after this?"

"Well, I imagine we'll have to start getting ready for the celebration dinner at your parents' house-"

"No," Jean said, a small smile on his face. "I mean the next few days. Weeks. My parents are helping me pay rent on that apartment as a graduation gift. Are you just going to stay in that little dorm on campus?"

Marco's face lit up as he realized what Jean was talking about. "Are you serious? You'll let me move in with you?"

"Of course. Who else is going to clean up after me?" He smirked.

Marco punched his arm gently, and they both laughed.

"So, whaddya say? Want to be my roomie again?"

"Definitely." Marco wrapped his arms around Jean's waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

Jean smiled against Marco's lips, closing his eyes. He no longer cared if anyone was staring. He no longer cared if anyone around was homophobic. He was going to live his life with Marco the best he could. He had everything he could ever want or need. He had his own little perfect, unique, freckled love. And he was going to hold onto it forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. This is the final chapter of Freckled Love. I'd like to thank all of you so much for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.   
> Thank you! :)


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